


Coming Home

by Tasha_T



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Lesbian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasha_T/pseuds/Tasha_T
Summary: Jess's life was sucking badly lately.  She'd split from her husband, and then been laid off . . . and new job prospects weren't looking great.  Reluctantly, she'd retreated to her home town, to regroup and try to get her life back on track.  That's where she ran into Erin, someone she'd been close to back in high school.  Was their chance meeting going to lead her somewhere she didn't expect?  Or was her stay in her home town only a temporary stop?





	1. Chapter 1

I stepped off the bus and looked around at all the familiar sights. Some people might have sighed and felt the warm glow at the thought of being home. I sighed alright, but it was more in resignation. I was back where I came from, but far from feeling good about it . . . or myself.

It had been a tough six months – or was that six years. I felt beaten down and exhausted. I just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for a week. I knew I wouldn’t, though. That just wasn’t my style

For now I’d feel sorry for myself and moan about the unfairness of it all. Tomorrow I’d get on with life and forget about it. I hoped.

I glanced around, not sure exactly who was picking me up. Then I spotted a familiar face coming out of the restaurant with a steaming cup in her hand. 

I couldn’t help smiling – in spite of my generally sour mood – and I felt good for the first time in what seemed like forever when I saw the warm smile she shot back at me.

Aimee walked over, casually, like she met me here all the time. She glanced down at her watch. ”You’re a little early.” She held up the cup. “I thought I’d get a chance to finish this before you got here. Now I suppose you expect me to share with you.”

I grinned. “Damn right,” I replied, snatching the cup from her hand and taking a big sip.

The surprise must have shown on my face because Aimee grinned at me. 

“That’s not coffee,” I said, almost as if I felt offended.

She just kept right on grinning. “Nope. Hot chocolate. I just had an urge. Good, huh?”

I actually didn’t mind hot chocolate . . . but you know how it is . . . when you’re expecting a nice hot cup of coffee and you get something else. It was disappointing. Well, welcome to my life of late . . . riddled with disappointments. At least this was only a minor one.

“You got the urge for it?” I quipped. “You’re not pregnant again, are you?”

She laughed. “God, no!” She paused as if thinking. “No. Definitely not. No way.” 

She glanced back at me and gave me a little swat on the shoulder. “Don’t even say something like that. I’ve just almost, sort of got my body back in shape after the last one. I’m not ready for another one.” 

Almost under her breath I heard her add, “Two’s enough. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for another one.”

“Oh come on,” I teased. “You love being a mom.”

It was true . . . hard to believe, but true. 

I would have never picked Aimee to be mom material back when I knew her in high school. She was more of a party girl, and a troublemaker. 

She was only a little over a year out of school when she got married and then got pregnant and had her first kid – although I think the truth was that things didn’t quite happen in that order.

I wasn’t around all the time – I was off at college and then working – but from what I did see, Aimee was actually a very caring, attentive mom. Her kids were the center of her universe. 

Her husband, Tyler, was also a happy member of that universe. I knew Tyler from school, too. I always thought he was a bit of a loser, but once again – I guess showing what I know about people – he kind of grew up fast, and with Aimee there to guide him he’d actually turned into a decent guy.

As all of this was bouncing around in my head, Aimee was just staring at me and sipping her hot chocolate. Finally she spoke ‘the big question’. 

“So, how long are you back for? Are you thinking of staying?” 

Again, she was casual about it, but I knew her well enough to catch her undertones. She wished I was going to stay . . . but she kind of knew that wouldn’t be the case.

I gave her a sad smile. I could tell she missed me. Honestly, I missed having her around too. But I had to follow my heart. So I told her the truth. “I’ll probably just stick around until I can find something new. But with the way the market is right now . . . I’ve got no idea how long that might be.”

She nodded and offered a resigned look. I guess that was about what she’d expected. 

She took a last big sip, emptying her cup, and then turned her attention back to me. “Well,” she started, “in spite of you being a lousy friend and always taking off on me . . . .” Her face softened and drifted into a big smile. “I am happy your back.”

She gave me a big hug. I hugged her back . . . hard.

In times like these, I needed a friend like her to give me a little support and stability in my life. If there was one reason I was glad to be back home, it was to be close to my best friend.

  
I told Aimee to take me straight to my parent’s place, but she had other ideas. I reluctantly followed her into O’Bryan’s – a pub where we’d spent many nights and had plenty of good times. She promised it was only for one drink. I was hoping that was the truth.

I didn’t need a shrink to tell me why I was less than enthusiastic about stopping off. It’s not that I couldn’t use a drink. It was just that this wasn’t exactly a triumphant homecoming for me. In fact, I was feeling like a total and complete failure.

In the last six months my marriage – to Troy, a local boy – had collapsed, and then two weeks ago I had been laid off at work. It didn’t help in the least that my company had laid off over 500 employees. It still felt very personal and left me feeling shaken and uncertain. 

I mean, I was a good employee. My boss had actually made a point of coming by to see me before they escorted me out so he could tell me he was sad to see me go. I’m sure HR would have hated that – someone actually acting human and not taking the ‘it’s just business’ bullshit line that they were spewing.

It had happened on a Wednesday, but by the following Monday I’d put it behind me – or at least temporarily buried it – and was reaching out to all the contacts I had trying to find something new. Our company had started a trend, though, because others in the industry seemed to be looking more to downsize than bring on anyone new. The best case companies were standing pat with the people they had . . . so no opportunities.

I could have maybe hung in there a little longer, but my apartment and my other costs in Chicago were high, and it didn’t take much to know they’d deplete what savings I had in no time if I didn’t make a change.

I’d been so reluctant to consider moving back home . . . call it pride or whatever. But then reality set in and it moved to the top of my list of options.

So, not surprisingly, I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having to face people I knew given what I’d been through. I had no doubts some people thought I’d always acted like I was too good for this small town. I was sure some of them would be only too happy to see me fall flat on my face. I knew I’d have to face people eventually . . . but that didn’t make it any easier.

Maybe Aimee was tuned in to what I was feeling because she grabbed a table in a quiet corner in the back and ordered a couple of beers.

God, it had been so long since I’d had a beer. Maybe the flavor wasn’t the greatest – I guess I’d never been the biggest fan of beer – but it reminded me of good times I’d had, many of them with Aimee. I smiled at her, touched my bottle to hers and said, “Thanks. I think I needed that.”

“Damn right you did,” she said as she grinned and took a sip. 

We chatted about things – what was happening around town, gossip about people we knew, and lots of talk about Aimee’s kids. We talked about everything but me and my disastrous life. And that was exactly what I needed.

I wanted to hear everything that was going on with Ethan and Becca – Aimee’s kids. Her pride showed whenever she talked about them . . . and that made me smile.

When I finally drained my beer – I’m sure Aimee had finished her long before – she looked at me, cocked an eyebrow and asked, “One more?”

I laughed. “Sure . . . but just one. I mean it.”

Aimee nodded. “Yeah, I really do mean just one. I need to get home and make sure the kids are having their bath and getting ready for bed. Tyler’s great, but he’s just as likely to be playing Xbox with them as making sure they get done what needs doing.”

By the time we left O’Bryan’s I was feeling much lighter and happier. I guess it was some combination of the beer and hanging out with Aimee. I knew it would pass, but it was nice to have a break from all my worrying and anxiety. I was sure I’d have plenty of time to deal with that later.

When Aimee stopped in front of my parent’s place I asked if she wanted to come in. I’m sure she knew I was looking for support, but she just shook her head and quietly said, “I’ve really go to get home.” She gave me a little smile and added, “Come on, Jess, you know it’ll be okay.”

I nodded, but I’m sure I didn’t look like I was convinced.

It’s not that my parents were monsters or anything. They were actually wonderful. It was just more of me feeling like a failure. 

This was something that was so new to me I was really struggling with it. It left me with images of the disappointment on my parents’ faces when they saw me – even though I was almost certain that wouldn’t be the case. 

Aimee helped me get my bags out of her trunk. She gave me another smile, and then we shared a big hug before she sent me on my way. I was half way to the door when she called after me, “Jess . . . it’s really good to have you home.”

I lay in my bed . . . the same bed I’d slept in all those years ago in high school. The bed we’d bought down at Sears just shortly after I’d turned thirteen. There was a certain amount of comfort and safety being back in my bed in the room where I’d spent most of my childhood.

I thought back on the evening with my parents. It had been . . . nice. 

They both seemed so happy to see me when I arrived. In a matter of seconds all of my fears over how they’d react had been shattered. I was so relieved I think I even shed a tear or two. That just made my mother give me an extra big hug and reassure me that everything was going to be fine. I took her word for it, because – quite frankly – that’s exactly what I needed to hear.

My father hauled my suitcases upstairs. Of course he complained.

“What you got in here . . . bricks?” he muttered, but, like always, there was a hint of humor in his voice.

My mother shooed me to the living room and brought glasses of wine for the two of us. Dad joined us soon and we just talked.

Mom was never one to beat around the bush. “I’m so sorry about your job . . . I know you really loved it. I’m sure you’ll find something else soon, but in the meantime . . . well, we get to enjoy your company. I can’t say I’m sad about that.” 

She actually looked so please that I couldn’t help but feel good. I remembered mom back in the old days could be a little smothering . . . but I was feeling like that might not be so bad right now.

Dad didn’t say much – he’d always been a man of few words, and with the way mom liked to talk, I guess that was a good thing. But the happy smile that shone on his face as he sat watching me spoke just as much as all of mom’s words.

I noticed neither of them said a word about my marriage. I knew both of them had misgivings about Troy. Actually, Aimee hadn't been his biggest fan either. 

I wondered if I’d pushed ahead with it just because everyone seemed to be hinting I shouldn’t. That was me . . . always certain I knew better than anyone else. I hoped that was something I’d grown out of as I’d matured . . . but I hadn't necessarily seen any evidence to support that.

As much as I’d been reluctant to return home, I think I felt happier tonight than I’d felt in a long time. Being close to my parents and Aimee definitely bolstered my spirits. I’d learned in Chicago – both after my marriage disintegrated and after the layoff – just how little of a support net I had there. It felt so good to be with people who had my back, no matter what.

I drifted off to sleep for the first time in a long time feeling maybe just a bit upbeat. That was a nice change.


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn’t believe I actually slept until almost nine the next morning. The last time I’d done that, I was probably still in college. I felt re-energized and ready to face the day.

It was a little strange wandering around my parents’ house. They had both already gone to work – my mother was the principal at a middle school and dad worked for the city in the planning department.

As always, I found my mother’s fridge and pantry well stocked. I knew if I went to the basement, I’d find even more. It seemed if she didn’t have a six month supply of food on hand – you know, in case we got snowed in for the whole winter – well, she started to get nervous.

I found a grapefruit and ate that – I was sure my father would be happy to share – and then made myself a piece of toast and smothered it with some of mom’s home-made raspberry jam. It tasted like a gourmet breakfast to me. 

When I was working I was regularly in by 6:30 and I rarely had anything to eat except maybe a muffin from the coffee shop downstairs.

After breakfast, I grabbed my laptop and my phone, made myself a cup of coffee, and then set about trying to get my life back in order.

I found I had an email from Troy. He was actually suggesting that maybe I should pay him support. 

“Fucking asshole,” I muttered to myself as I hit delete. Of course then I thought better of it, got it from the trash and dropped it into a folder I’d titled ‘Divorce’. Let’s be realistic – I was certainly never going to reconcile with that useless prick. 

Next I combed through the lists I’d made – people I knew and the companies they worked for, as well as companies that I thought might be a good fit for me. 

My initial searches had focused on Chicago, but now I was looking countrywide. I spent the rest of the morning expanding and refining my lists. I searched my memory for people I’d known, back to college, who might be able to give me a lead.

I made a dozen cold calls to companies I thought were good prospects, and sent out a number of resumes for their consideration. I’d been productive, and by the time I quit in the middle of the afternoon I felt like I’d made some progress. There weren't any specific positions I’d identified, but at least I was doing something.

When my phone rang, I was happy to see Aimee’s name come up.

“Hey, what you been doing?” she asked when I answered.

“Just checking out some job prospects . . . trying to see what might be out there.”

“Now don’t go getting a job too quick. I don’t want you leaving again before we’ve even had a chance to hang out. I’m sure after a week or so I’ll be sick of you . . . but at least give me that much time.”

I had to laugh. That was classic Aimee. And I didn’t think she had anything to worry about. From what I’d seen, and what had been confirmed by the people I’d talked to today, there didn’t seem to be a lot of open positions.

Apparently Aimee was just waiting for her kids to get out of school. 

“So . . . you made any plans for tonight?” she asked. “Set up any dates or anything?”

I found myself smiling. “Not just yet. Why, do you think the guys around here would be into a hot, young divorcee?” 

Aimee let out a snorting little laugh. Also classic Aimee. “I still think most of the guys here are scared of you. And now that you’re the big city girl with the college degree . . . that’s not going to make these small town boys any more comfortable.”

That sounded about right. Even back in school, I guess I’d been a little intimidating. I was the top in pretty much all my classes and so intense almost all the time (I actually loosened up a little in college). Most of the decent guys seemed afraid to ask me out, and the ones who did have the nerve – typically – weren’t the kind that interested me.

I guess that’s how I ended up with Troy. He wasn’t great, but he was reasonable. And after a while, it just seemed easier to keep going with him than to find someone else. I guess I just got comfortable with Troy.

It was kind of pathetic when you think about it, but back in those days – unlike most of my friends including Aimee – boyfriends and relationships weren’t really at the top of my priority list.

I considered how Aimee had summed up my current prospects. “Great,” I grumbled. “Some things never change I guess.”

“Nope,” Aimee said. “So just like the old days, tonight I’m going to be your date.”

“Uh . . . ,” I started, but Aimee just talked right over whatever protest I might have.

“I don’t work Thursdays and Tyler’s off, so he’s staying with the kids tonight and he can take them to school in the morning. And you’ve got nothing you need to do and no plans . . . so you’re coming with me.”

When I didn’t immediately respond, she continued. “Besides, I’m not doing this for you. I’ve earned a night off. You don’t understand how stressful it is being a mother. Aimee needs to have some fun and be bad.”

I had to laugh. She sounded so much like the old Aimee, it was scary. 

Still, I guess I wasn’t enthused. “But my parents . . . ,” I started, but again Aimee cut me off.

“Bowling night,” was all she said. “You may be their long lost daughter and I’m sure they love you lots and are happy you’re home, but it’s the middle of bowling season so they’re not going to cancel to hang out with you.”

She was absolutely right. Bowling was serious business. Short of me being on my death bed, they wouldn’t skip bowling – and even then they’d probably check with the doctor to see what the chances were I’d make it a couple of hours on my own.

I’d run out of good excuses . . . and though I considered still bowing out, I decided it was probably good for me. Besides, I couldn’t remember the last time Aimee and I had a night to just hang out, with no kids or husbands to interrupt us. At least I was pretty sure that this time she wouldn’t ditch me for some pretty boy who caught her eye . . . like she had so many times at high school parties.

I sighed. “Okay. I guess you talked me into it.”

“God, don’t sound so thrilled, girl. I’m not taking you to a Tupperware party or something.”

She was right. I needed to get out . . . have a little fun, and unwind a bit. So in my cheeriest voice, I said, “Okay, Aims, lets go get shitfaced and act stupid. What time does the fun start?”

She laughed. “I’ll come by about seven. You’d better tell your parents not to wait up.”

We were at O’Bryan’s again. Wednesday wasn’t exactly a busy night, but that was fine. Aimee and I had our pick of tables and the waitress was quite attentive . . . given that she didn’t have that much to do.

We grabbed our same spot in the back and ordered beers. I made mine a lite, which earned me some abuse from Aimee, but generally she seemed quite happy to be there with me. I figured she hadn't lied. She probably didn’t get too much ‘Aimee time’ with two active kids and a husband.

We talked and laughed just like in the old days. It was hard to believe it had been nine years since we’d left high school and everything in life changed.

Whenever Aimee spotted someone we’d known, she called them over – actually, I realized, it was only the guys. I tried my best not to be too intense or intimidating . . . although in a couple of cases I had to abandon that and move straight on to full out bitch to chase away men that I quickly realized were still major losers.

Aimee just laughed and ordered another round.

I saw a couple of women we’d gone to school with come in with their husbands or boyfriends. They were people I knew, but had never really been friends with. Aimee just glanced at them and made no attempt to draw their attention. That was fine with me.

I was, not surprisingly, the first to break the seal, which earned me more abuse from Aimee. When I came out of the washroom I noticed a group had taken over a couple of tables down at the far end of the bar and were talking rather loudly. I no more than glanced at them. They looked like they were maybe from work – men and woman, and all different ages.

I’d just turned to head back to our table when I heard a laugh over the din of the bar. I froze. It sounded so pure and sweet . . . and so familiar. I just had to turn and look.

I saw a woman sitting there . . . and at first I wasn’t sure. She had her face half turned from me as she shared an animated conversation with the man beside her. Her hair was longer than I remembered . . . so I really didn’t know. When she turned to pick up her drink, though, I recognized her. I just stood there staring.

I’m not sure if she could sense me or what, but slowly she turned my way. Her eyes met mine . . . and for a few long seconds neither of us looked away. Finally she was distracted by the man beside her and she turned, somewhat reluctantly it seemed.

I guess that broke whatever spell I was under. I took one last look, and then headed back to my table.

I was thankful that Aimee, apparently, hadn’t been watching me. As I sat, she handed me a new bottle of beer and started into a long story. I took a few minutes, trying to decide what I wanted to do. Aimee didn’t seem to notice my distraction.

Finally I just blurted out, “I think I just saw Erin Cassidy. Is she back in town?”

Aimee blinked and looked at me a little funny. I guess I’d sort of interrupted her story. 

Finally she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “She’s actually teaching at the high school, if you can believe it.” She gave a little laugh. The way she said it was like, ‘Can you believe any sane person would want to teach high school? Remember what we were like when we were there?’ 

I sort of understood that. It didn’t surprise me, though, that Erin taught high school. It did surprise me she’d moved back to town.

Almost as if she were reading my mind, Aimee said, “She moved back about two years ago. Apparently her grandmother got sick, so she’s living with her and helping take care of her.”

I found myself nodding and almost commented that Erin had always been close to her grandmother, before I caught myself.

Aimee was grinning. “You kind of hated her, didn’t you? Didn’t you two work on the yearbook together?”

I dropped my eyes as I nodded. “Yeah, we were both on the yearbook committee. That was a long time ago.”

Aimee nodded, and after a couple of seconds went back to her story. I listened and smiled and laughed at the appropriate points, but she only had half my attention. I had other things on my mind all of a sudden.

Aimee had started the night with big plans, but I guess age and lack of practice had caught up with her because by eleven, she looked about ready to fall asleep. I was definitely not feeling any pain either. Of course I hadn’t matched Aimee’s rate of intake, so I was a slight bit more sober.

She wanted to order another round, but I shut her down. I took her phone and gave Tyler a call to come get her. He was only five minutes away, so it didn’t take long. I was sure Aimee would give him hell for leaving the kids alone, but really, he wasn’t gone for more than ten minutes.

Tyler offered me a ride too, but I told him I’d walk. It was cool out – it was the middle of winter, after all – but it wasn’t that bad and honestly, it felt refreshing. I had a hat and gloves on, and a winter coat, so I decided I’d be fine. Besides, my parents’ place was only about ten blocks away, and I knew the exercise and fresh air would do me good.

I said my good-byes to Tyler, confident that Aimee would get home safely. She was already slumped over in her seat and snoring loudly. I pulled out my phone and took a picture, and then a selfie with me smiling beside her as she drooled. It was a classic. 

Tyler patiently stood watching with an amused smile on his face. I’d happily give Aimee grief about this at some point, and I’m sure Tyler would be in all kinds of trouble for letting me take the pictures. I was looking forward to the fun, though.

I waved as Tyler headed off and then turned and started on my way. After about a block I realized I’d maybe not picked the best footwear for the walk. The ankle boots I wore were gorgeous looking, but they weren’t exactly warm and they didn’t have the best grip when I hit icy patches.

I had to walk slowly and carefully to make sure I didn’t fall and hurt myself. I was about half way home when suddenly, out of no where, I felt something hard hit me in the middle of the back. I stumbled and almost fell, but managed to keep my feet. Luckily I wasn’t on any ice. When I turned to see what had hit me, I saw a woman in a red parka coming up behind me.

I froze as she approached. 

“Did you throw a snowball at me?” I finally asked as she neared.

From the big grin on her face, it was obvious she had. She bent over, scooped up a fresh mitt full of snow and started to make another one. “You deserved it,” she said. She sounded a little put out. 

After a second she added, “I saw you at the bar. I thought you’d at least say hello.”

I stared at her for a second, and then in a quiet voice said, “I wasn’t really sure you’d want me to.”

She gave a little, “Hmph,” as if she thought my excuse was incredibly lame, and continued packing her snowball.

I found a little smile creep onto my lips. “Hello, Erin. How have you been?”

She still eyed me for another second, before she found a smile of her own. “Good,” she finally said. “How about you?”

I nodded. “Good.”

“I hear you’re . . . back . . . for a bit.” She seemed almost tentative. I assumed she somehow knew some of the details of my return. I had no idea what was going around, but in a small town like this, it was possible everyone knew everything about me.

I nodded again. “Yeah . . . I guess. We’ll see. It’ll kind of depend.”

Now it was her turn to nod.

“Are you at your parents’?” she asked.

I gave another nod. “Yeah,” I replied, feeling very self-conscious. I tried to make a joke of it, saying, “It’s kind of sad, I guess, right? Having to move back home.”

She looked at me for a few long seconds. She reached out and squeezed my arm. “Jess, that’s just life. You can’t control it, so you just have to go with it. Sometimes it takes you places you didn’t expect to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Sometimes you find that where you end up is exactly where you should be.”

Erin had always been one of those people who was full of compassion and empathy. Her words sounded a little new age and fluffy, but I had no doubt she believed them and she’d said them to me because she hoped they might help.

I didn’t know if the words themselves helped, but it felt good that she’d said them to me.

She gave me that big smile of hers and a little nudge. “Come on, let’s keep walking or we’re going to freeze out here.”

I nodded. She was right. My feet were already starting to feel a bit numb and I was sure my nose and cheeks were rosy.

I took about two steps when she playfully lobbed the other snowball at me. It more surprised me than anything, and I slipped again and almost fell.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she cried as she rushed over and grabbed my arm to help steady me.

“Look what you almost did.” I growled . . . but I wasn’t serious.

“Hey, I said I’m sorry,” she replied, and then added, “Maybe you should get some real winter boots and then you wouldn’t have this problem.”

She got a little grin on her face. “Or maybe you just can’t handle your drinks like you use to.”

I tried to give her a scowl, but she was giving me a big smile. Obviously she wasn’t being too serious either. I found myself smiling too.

“I don’t know if it’s the beers or the boots, but maybe I should give you a hand, just to make sure you don’t kill yourself.” As Erin spoke, she stepped up close beside me and wrapped her arm around mine.

I was torn . . . but I gave her a little sigh and then in a quiet voice implored her, “Don’t do that.”

I couldn’t look at her, but I could feel her eyes on me. After a second she let go of my arm. “Fine,” she said. She sounded a little miffed . . . and maybe a bit sullen. “But if you fall on your butt, don’t blame me.”

We walked in silence for a minute before I spoke. “You’re staying at your grandmothers?”

I glanced her way and saw her nod. 

I took a couple of seconds before I asked, “How is she?”

Erin’s eyes dropped and her brows furrowed. The anguish was plain on her face. She took her time before she finally answered. 

“She has her good days,” she said. Erin was always one to put a positive spin on things. 

I felt bad for her. I knew how close she was to her grandmother. I think her grandmother had raised her more than either of her parents. I could only imagine how it must be to see someone who was that important in your life start to fade. It was the kind of thing I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

I wanted to ask more, but I didn’t. I decided it really wasn’t worth forcing Erin to dwell on such an obviously painful topic just to satisfy my curiosity. So instead I said, “I was surprised you were back in town.”

Erin glanced at me. “I probably wouldn’t be, except for Gran.” I could tell from the sober look on her face that I was still treading a little close to that very painful topic. I felt bad.

The silence stretched again, before she spoke. “You didn’t know I was back in town?”

I shook my head. “No. I hadn't heard anything about you . . . in a long time.”

Those words didn’t seem to make Erin any happier.

We walked in silence for another block. 

We were only a block away from my parent’s place when she asked. It was a question I knew was coming . . . but that didn’t seem to make it any easier.

Erin sounded so tentative . . . but like I said, I knew she’d ask.

“Do you ever think about . . . me . . . us?”

Even though I expected it, it still felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I bit my lip and deliberately kept my eyes straight ahead. I couldn’t look at her.

I took a long time to answer, but then, “No,” was all I said.

It was late and after all those beers I should have been out in no time. I’d slept so well the previous night, but tonight I found my mind churning – I assumed the result of all that alcohol in my system.

Working the phones today and hanging out with Aimee had really lifted my spirits, but now it seemed all of that was gone. 

I lay there feeling like shit. I’d been analyzing my life and my situation. It had occurred to me what a total fraud I was and how dishonest I’d been . . . with myself and with those around me.

I’d lied to my parents about my marriage break up, I’d lied to Aimee about the job I’d had . . . and I’d lied to Erin.


	3. Chapter 3

It was almost ten when I finally woke up the next morning. I still felt like shit . . . both physically and mentally. I found myself cursing Aimee and swearing I’d never drink again. Okay, I brought that back to the realm of reality and swore I’d drink a little more responsibly in the future. That sounded at least doable.

I lay there for a while, thinking about things I needed to do on the job front, thinking about Aimee and how I needed to see how she was feeling this morning (I hoped she felt at least as bad as I did), thinking about my parents . . . I was keeping myself distracted to avoid thinking about what was really on my mind. But eventually it floated to the top.

Erin.

I hadn't actually seen her in seven or eight years . . . and even then it had just been across a room. We’d never spoken.

Seeing her last night – just out of the blue like that – had been a bit of a shock. And then walking with her and talking with her . . . it was something I was still trying to process.

I was a little uncertain why it affected me so much. Erin and I had, ever so briefly, had something. But that was half a lifetime ago. It was only a month or so of my existence – though that month had been filled such strong emotions that I knew it wasn’t something I was likely to ever forget.

And I’d lied to Erin when I said I never thought about it . . . about the two of us.

Right now that seemed like all I was thinking about. Nonetheless, I couldn’t seem to come to any conclusion on what it meant . . . if anything.

I finally pushed it aside and dragged myself out of bed around eleven. That first cup of coffee didn’t really seem like a great idea. For the longest time it threatened to come back up, but eventually the feeling subsided and I managed to convince myself to have a yogurt and then a banana.

I called Aimee just a little after noon, and was pleased that she sounded about as rough as I felt. I couldn’t have handled the usually perky Aimee on a day like this. She moaned about getting old – God, we were only twenty-seven – and then about her kids having hockey that night and how she didn’t know if she could face a couple of hours in the rink cheering them on.

“I’m going back to bed,” she finally announced. She said her good-byes, told me I was a horrible influence, and then invited me over for dinner with the family on Saturday. “Ethan and Becca can’t wait to see their Auntie Jessie. Now me . . . I can wait.”

Afterwards I curled up on the couch in the living room under a fleece blanket – my parents, for whatever reason, liked to keep the house a little chilly. I was thinking maybe mom was having hot flashes these days and craved the coolness. Whatever the reason, I found I had to bundle up whenever I was just sitting around.

I played on my computer, not really being terribly productive, but at least keeping myself occupied. I kept a big glass of water beside me – no ice required to keep it chilled – and emptied it a couple of times during the afternoon. I also helped myself to one of mom’s Cokes from the fridge. I thanked God she hadn't switched to one of the low calorie versions, because they tasted awful.

By late afternoon I was feeling almost human again. I decided that since I wasn’t exactly busy, maybe I’d make supper for my parents. I used to like to cook, back when I was in high school or even when I was home in the summers during college. When I worked, there seemed little opportunity for it – or for a lot of things – so this was kind of a treat.

I thawed a couple of chicken breasts, diced them and browned them with garlic and onions and some sliced yellow peppers and then made a white sauce to go with them. I added some seasonings, and then let it simmer.

I found some French bread in the freezer, sliced it and then smeared it with a thick coating of garlic butter that I’d mixed up. I put half a dozen pieces into the toaster oven so they’d be ready to broil. 

By the time my parents got home, I had the table all set – complete with candles – and handed each of them a glass of wine as they walked in the door.

They both seemed thrilled, which made me happy.

The two of them changed and then joined me in the kitchen, sitting at the little table and keeping me company as I boiled some fettuccine and finished with the garlic bread. In the old days, I probably would have made a Caesar salad too, but I was a little rusty around the kitchen, so I decided this would have to do.

We chatted as we ate. It was so nice. I realized how much I missed having a quiet meal with my parents, without my head being filled with all those things I had to deal with back at work. I could just focus on the here and now. It was so wonderful and refreshing.

I even had a glass of wine with my meal – I was drinking responsibly now, so that was okay. 

Afterwards mom and I headed to the living room while dad volunteered to handle the clean up and dishes. I told him I’d help, but he shooed me away. I decided not to argue.

Mom had poured us each a second glass of wine – I considered protesting, but then decided I was close enough to being back to normal that I could take it. We chatted about her day and about happenings around town until dad joined us. After a bit we all settled in. Mom and dad were reading – both of them were voracious readers – and I was checking out news on the internet (I was a news junkie).

After a while I got bored and wandered over to the bookshelf in the hall off the living room. It was jammed with an assortment of titles. I pulled out books and read the covers until I found one that grabbed my attention.

I sat down and started reading. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just read a book for fun. I always read plenty of business and non-fiction books . . . but it seemed I’d forgotten how to just read a book for the sheer enjoyment of the story.

In no time I was immersed in it. I would have probably read all night, but my less than wonderful sleep the previous night finally caught up with me. By nine thirty I was having trouble focusing and I kept having to re-read sentences. I decided it was time to just admit defeat and go to bed.

I said good-night to my parents and headed upstairs.

As I lay there in bed, drifting towards sleep, my mind seemed to wander. I had thoughts about jobs and all my anxieties that went with that, about Aimee and how wonderful and supportive she was being, about how understanding my parents were . . . and again Erin popped up. Seeing her like that really had brought back those memories. I was assuming it was just some kind of nostalgia . . but I really wasn’t sure.


	4. Chapter 4

I decided it was time to face the reality of the weather here and get myself some winter boots. And maybe a few other winter related items too. 

Mom had leant me her car – something that made both her and me a little nervous. I hadn't driven in Chicago, and I was never the greatest driver to start with. It was one of the few things I’d never seemed to master – although I can’t say I ever really put a lot of effort into working on it.

Back in high school, Aimee loved to drive – she was so proud and excited when she got her first car, although looking back, I don’t know how we didn’t die driving around in that true piece of junk.

Troy always drove, too, whenever the two of us went anywhere – so that included most of my time in college and in Chicago. Otherwise, I was happy with a taxi or an Uber.

Thank God the traffic in town was light and the roads were bare. If this had been Chicago, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone a block without some kind of incident.

I still almost rammed someone entering the Walmart parking lot. Just to play it safe, I parked at the back of the lot, half a dozen slots away from the nearest vehicle.

I was checking out their selection of boots when I heard someone say, “Finally getting smart, are you?”

I knew the voice immediately. I looked up to find Erin standing there, smiling, but maybe looking a little uncertain.

“It’s amazing you made it home alive in the boots you were wearing the other night.” I saw a familiar twinkle in her eyes. I remembered it vividly from years ago . . . it was always there when she was teasing me.

I gave her a little smile. “Yeah, maybe . . . but you have to admit, those boots looked amazing.”

She let out a little laughed. “Okay . . . maybe. I’m sure they would have impressed the EMT’s when they loading you up and hauled you to the hospital.”

It was my turn to laugh – I could well imagine that. I was willing to admit they weren’t the best boots for walking on snow and ice.

We just stood there, looking at each other for a few long, awkward seconds. 

Finally she said, “Friends?”

I took a second, and then found myself smiling. “Yeah, of course. Friends.” 

She gave me a big smile. Erin always had the most dazzling smile.

I glanced down at my watch and then up at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” It was the middle of the afternoon.

“We’re off early on Fridays,” she told me. “Usually I catch up on marking before I go home . . . but today I decided I needed a break.” 

She sighed as she spoke that last part and her face betrayed a surprising weariness.

I raised an eyebrow. “Out for a little therapeutic shopping, then?”

She gave a weak smile and a nod. “I guess so . . . sure.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said as I turned back to the winter boots. I studied them for a couple of seconds and then glanced over at Erin. “Any thoughts on what might be good?”

It wasn’t like me to ask for someone else’s opinion . . . on just about anything . . . so I wasn’t exactly sure why I had.

She eyed me and slowly a grin spread across her face again. “Weren’t you in Chicago? They had winter there, didn’t they?” Then she muttered, sort of to herself but clearly loud enough so I could hear, “I can’t believe you don’t have winter boots.”

I could tell she was just teasing me again, but I felt the need to defend myself.

“Usually I was just going a block to the train station and then into a building or from a car to a building. I wasn’t wandering around out in the snow.”

Her eyes widened and she got a shocked look. “You never just went out in the snow . . . to build a snowman . . . or go sledding . . . or even just to go for a walk? It’s so peaceful and relaxing . . . walking out in the snow.” From her look and her tone, you’d think I’d said I’d never been on an airplane or used the internet.

“I . . . .” My immediate reaction was to respond . . . but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I really didn’t ever go out for just a walk when I was in Chicago. Life there just seemed too busy.

I was a little shocked to realize it. “You’re right,” I admitted, half to myself . . . before I added, “That walk the other night really was nice.”

The words spilled out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. 

I could see Erin eyeing me curiously. And then it dawned on me.

Was she wondering if I meant I liked the walk the other night . . . because she was there?

I suddenly felt a little sheepish. I turned back to the rack of boots to hide the redness I was feeling in my cheeks.

At the same time, I was wondering, “Is that what I really meant? Did I actually think the walk was nice . . . because I’d shared it with Erin?” I honestly wasn’t sure.

She didn’t respond to my comment, but a couple of seconds later she stepped up to the rack of boots – standing very close to me – and began to pick pairs up to examine them.

She selected a bulky pair. “These look like they’d be nice and warm.” She was grinning at me as she said it, I’m sure knowing I’d never even consider an ugly pair of boots like that.

“Yeah, that’s probably what I’d pick . . . if I was planning on a solo trek to the North Pole.” 

“Even then,” I added, “the polar bears would probably make fun of me.”

She let out a little giggle as she put them back. I’m sure she got the reaction out of me she was expecting.

She examined a couple more pairs and I seemed to be just watching her as she did. I wasn’t exactly sure why. I guess I was still trying to figure out . . . whatever it was that existed between us. 

Could we just be friends? I liked the idea. I know it had been a while and maybe Erin had changed (I mean, I’m pretty sure I had changed), but from what I’d seen so far, I still found I liked her . . . as a person.

After she looked over a third pair of boots, she held them up to me. “What about these. They look like they’d be warm enough . . . and I’m sure the EMT’s would still think they were cute.”

She was giving me that sassy little grin of hers. She always did like teasing me. That was something I remembered . . . fondly.

I took the boots from her. They actually were quite cute, and like she said, they looked warm. I flipped them over to look at the soles. “Ha,” I said, “with these I won’t need any EMT’s.”

She gave me a pretend-pouty face. “I guess that means you won’t need me to lean on either.”

My eyes darted to her and then dropped away. Her comment made me feel a little bashful again. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I said nothing. I just pretended to examine the boots.

When I’d glanced at her though, I got the sense she was immediately regretting the comment. I thought maybe she was having as much trouble as I was figuring out what this relationship was between the two of us.

I found this strange. I’d always been such a strong, confident person. I wasn’t one to ever embarrass easily. But when I was around Erin – back in high school and still now – I just seemed a different person. There was no denying she had some kind of effect on me. Like I keep saying, I just wasn’t sure what that meant . . . if anything.

It certainly wasn’t normal for me, but I did my best to distract myself from whatever awkwardness – or whatever it was – that had appeared between us. Normally I was willing to face difficult situations head on. I just didn’t feel up to it with Erin, though. There was just too much I was uncertain about.

So I found a pair of the boots in my size and tried them on. I walked up and down the aisle, checked them out in the mirror, and then found myself smiling.

“I think these are perfect.” I announced.

Erin I think was relieved to be past that moment. She gave me a smug little, ‘of course they are,’ look before saying, “You can thank me later . . . .” A grin spread across her face. “. . . by buying me a coffee.”

She never was too shy or subtle. 

I just smiled back at her and said, “Sure . . . no problem.”

I threw the boots in my cart and turned to head off. Erin hesitated. 

I glanced at her . . . and then gave a little nod. “Do you want to join me?”

I got that gorgeous smile from her again and she fell in beside me. I found I felt happy having her there with me. It felt quite natural. It didn’t feel the least bit odd or awkward.

I remembered way back in high school, I’d found how well Erin and I got along – once I got to know her a bit. I thought she was fun, and funny . . . always playful and amusing. And though she liked to tease me, she was never mean or bitchy about it.

Now, all these years later, it seemed she really hadn't changed that much after all. It was easy to fall back into the friendship we’d had – at the end of high school. I just wondered if that was where it would stop . . . this time.

We looked at different things, each of us offering our opinions. I stopped at a collection of sweater and began to pick through them. Walmart maybe wasn’t where I’d normally do my clothes shopping, but I’d decided in the short term – while I was between jobs – maybe it would be a prudent choice.

“What . . . you don’t have any winter sweaters either?” Erin demanded, seeming incredulous.

“In Chicago I had my thermostat set so the place was habitable. My parents keep it so cold, I don’t think they have to plug in the fridge during the winter.”

Erin laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, I remember Gran was like that back when I was in school. I think sometimes I got frostbite on my nose while I was sleeping. I had to take a long hot shower every morning just to get warm enough so I could get dressed for school.”

I could see from the look on her face those were happy memories. But as I watched, I saw all the happiness slip away and an obvious sadness creep in. “Now I keep the house so warm I have to wear shorts half the time. Otherwise Gran gets chills . . . even with all the blankets I pile on her.”

She seemed to drift off somewhere – like she was deep in thought. 

I watched her. The pain and sadness in her eyes was heartbreaking. I felt an urge to give her a big hug and tell her it was going to be okay . . . but I didn’t. Instead I just rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. 

That seemed to bring her back from wherever it was she had retreated. She rested her hand on mine and gave me a weak smile. 

We just stood there, staring at each other for a moment. 

As quickly as it came, it seemed to pass. Erin took her hand from mine and stepped away. Her eyes drifted down to the floor.

I found myself looking away too, feeling a little awkward.

After a couple of seconds she cleared her throat and asked, “So which of the sweaters do you like?”

I gave her a shy little grin before saying, “You’re my personal shopper, aren’t you? What do you think.”

That brought a smile to her face. She picked through the sweaters. She held up a big multi-colored one with a snow man on the front. It was so ugly it was almost cute. Well, maybe not quite.

She glanced at me and arched an eyebrow. She was grinning as she said, “I think you can pull this off.”

I had to laugh.

“You’d certainly be the center of attention if you wear it to O’Bryan’s,” she teased.

That was for sure . . . and not the good kind of attention.

She shook her head and tossed it back on the pile. “Nah, maybe not.”

She moved to another rack and looked some more. Finally she held up a very nice red sweater. It was fitted, but seemed heavy enough to provide some warmth. 

I took it from her and looked it over. I liked it.

I smiled as I turned to her. “It looks like you’re earning that coffee,” I said as it tossed the sweater in the cart. 

I hated trying clothes on in the store. It looked like it was the right size, but if it didn’t fit when I tried it on at home, I’d just bring it back. At least in a town like this, it would only be a ten minute drive to return it.

We wandered some more, poking though the clothes but not really looking too seriously. I did find a scarf that I thought went nicely with my coat. I flung it around my neck like some fashion accessory and then turned to Erin. “What do you think?” I asked.

She eyed it, and then stepped up to me. “That’s maybe how you’d use it in Chicago, but not here.”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

She adjusted the scarf around my neck . . . and then pulled it up over my nose so only my eyes were visible.

“There,” she laughed, “that’s how you wear a scarf around here.”

She looked at me and I saw a big smile spread across her face. “It looks nice,” she said quietly, and then almost shyly added, “And you can still see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

She held my eyes for just a second and then looked away. 

As she did, my eyes dropped . . . again. This was getting to be a thing.

I was glad the scarf was wrapped around my face because it hid my reddening cheeks.

We stood that way for another few awkward seconds, before Erin gave me a bashful glance. “Sorry,” she said softly.

I didn’t reply – I don’t think I really trusted my voice – but I gave her a little nod.

I guess if I wondered whether Erin still held any feelings for me, I was beginning to get a sense of it. That only made my struggle – trying to understand what I was feeling – that much harder. And I realized it made hanging out with her and being ‘just friends’ harder too.

I unwound the scarf from around my face and added it to the cart. Erin and I walked silently for a bit. We looked at a few more things, but we both seemed a little more subdued now.

When we made it to the end of the clothing section, Erin mentioned she needed to grab a couple of things from Health and Beauty. “I can just go,” she said.

When she turned, though, I found myself saying, “That’s okay. I’ll come too.”

In spite of whatever else we had going on, I was enjoying hanging out with Erin. I realized I didn’t want it to end.

Erin gave me a shy smile. I got the impression maybe she was enjoying hanging out with me too.

She grabbed some deodorant and toothpaste, and then some razors. “I don’t know why I need these,” she muttered. “I think maybe I should let all my hair grow out for the winter.”

“Eww,” I responded without even thinking. I really hated body hair. I wasn’t crazy about it even on men, but when I’d see a woman at the office with unshaven legs or in the fitness center change room with hairy armpits, it would seriously gross me out.

I shaved religiously. Maybe I’m a little OCD . . . but I’m okay with that.

Of course Erin just laughed at my reaction. 

We slowly seemed to be relaxing again. 

After we paid for our items we paused by the tills. “I guess I owe you that coffee,” I said.

Erin shook her head. “I was only kidding. You don’t have to buy me a coffee.”

“Nope, that was the deal,” I told her. “You’d help me with my shopping and I’d buy you a coffee.” I gave her a hard look. “I don’t want you telling all your friends that I backed out of a deal.”

She grinned. She knew I wasn’t being serious. 

“Okay . . . I don’t have tons of time . . . why don’t we just go to McDonalds?” There was a McDonalds right there in Walmart.

I scrunched up my face. “Really? McDonalds?”

“Why? What’s wrong with McDonalds? They’ve actually got good coffee. Have you ever even tried it?”

She seemed maybe a bit defensive . . . but then I was starting to realize that maybe I’d become a bit of a snob in the last few years.

So I shrugged, and said, “Okay, sure. I’ll try McDonalds.”

I guess since I was on a budget, I should have been thanking her.

I got two cups of coffee – mine black and hers with cream (I remembered) – and we found a table.

We chatted a bit. I actually had to admit to her that McDonalds coffee was pretty good.

After a couple of minutes I asked, “So you’ve got to get home soon, do you?”

She nodded. “Yeah, usually I have to be there by four on Fridays – we have a nurse that comes in and helps out with Gran, but that’s when she leaves. Today my aunt and uncle are visiting, though, so I can probably be a little longer.”

I bit my lip, so unsure, but I couldn’t help myself. “You can tell me if you don’t want to talk about it, but . . . what’s going on with your grandmother?”

I’d remembered meeting her years ago. She’d been very sweet . . . maybe a little outspoken and opinionated . . . but certainly a very strong, active woman. I found it so hard to believe someone like that was suddenly unable to take care of herself. It seemed like such a tragedy.

When I asked my question, I saw the smile fade from Erin’s face. She just sat there for a second, staring blankly. Then she took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes for just a second before she turned them back to me. I could tell this wasn’t easy for her. 

I started to tell her we didn’t have to talk about it, but she held up her hand and shook her head. “No. I want to tell you. It’s fine.” Her voice was firm, like she had no uncertainty.

She took another deep breath and began. “She’d been slowing down a lot over the last few years.” She gave her head a little shake, “It’s hard to believe, I know, but I could see it every time I visited. Only seeing her once a month or so, it was pretty obvious.”

She took a sip of her coffee, I was sure just to give herself a little break. She glanced back at me and then continued. “And then two summers ago, she tripped going down the stairs and broke her hip. She was in the hospital for two months and that just about drove her crazy. 

“School had just finished up, so I came down to help out and take care of her and her place, as much as I could.” 

Erin always had such an expressive face. I remember telling her I’d love to play poker with her. You could tell what was going through her head most of the time because it played out pretty clearly on her face.

So I could easily see the pain on her face as she talked about her grandmother, and I saw how her eyes darkened and her lips almost curled as she spoke now. 

“My parents and my aunt wanted to stick Gran into a home. They said that’s what she needed – the facilities – but what they really meant was it would be easier for them.” She looked like she almost choked on those words. Her nostrils flared and her face was set in an angry scowl.

I’d seen Erin upset . . . and hurt . . . mainly because I had caused it . . . but I’d never seen her like this. I wouldn’t have even thought her capable of this level of anger and bitterness.

When she looked at me her eyes seemed to be blazing. “I told them that wasn’t going to happen,” she all but growled. “There was no way they were going to put Gran in a home. That would have killed her faster than anything.”

She was quiet for a moment, just staring off, her eyes still on fire. Eventually she closed them and took a ragged breath.

I realized she was even more upset than I’d thought. Without even thinking, I put my hand on hers and gave it a squeeze.

Erin opened her eyes and looked at me. She took another deep breath and I could see all of the anger slowly draining out of her. Finally she managed a weak smile and squeezed my hand in return.

“That’s why I moved back,” she said, sounding strong and resolute. “She took care of me when it seemed no one else wanted to, so it’s the least I could do.”

Her smile broadened now. “I love being around her. She really is so . . . wise . . . I still have so much to learn from her.”

She almost sounded a little teary now as she spoke, so I gave her hand another little squeeze to reassure her.

“So she’s getting better?” I asked.

I knew immediately that wasn’t the case – Erin’s face gave it away. Her smile collapsed and I could see she was really fighting back tears now.

She gave her eyes a quick wipe and took another deep breath. Her voice sounded shaky when she spoke. “She seemed to be doing okay, but when the doctors were running some tests they found . . . .”

She paused again, closing her eyes and biting her lip. I saw one tear leak out of the corner of her eye but she quickly wiped it away.

She lifted her eyes to mine, and in a quiet, strained voice said, “They found she had leukemia.”

“I’m so sorry,” I told her. I kind of felt like shit. I felt so horrible for putting Erin through this.

I was going to ask if there was anything the doctors could do, but before I could Erin said, “It’s a type of leukemia that’s fairly treatable . . . in younger patients. For people Gran’s age, there’s no real options. And Gran decided right away that she didn’t want to spend what’s left of her life nauseous and drained from chemo that likely wouldn’t do anything anyways.”

Erin closed her eyes again and was breathing very deliberately through her nose, I was sure trying her best to keep the tears at bay.

I gave her hand a long, hard squeeze.

“Erin, I’m so sorry for bringing this up. I should have known better. I’m really, really sorry.” Now my voice had a bit of a tremble to it. 

As soon as I spoke Erin started shaking her head. Finally she opened her eyes and gave me a weary smile. She squeezed my hand back and said, “No. Don’t apologize. One of the hardest things about all of this is not having someone to talk to about it. I’m kind of friends with some of the people at school, but we’re not that close. They’ve all got families so they’re busy with that. And everybody’s so afraid to mention it. I just feel like I can’t talk to anyone there without making it awkward, you know.”

I nodded. I could understand.

Her smile brightened, maybe just a shade. “So, I know you may not believe it, the way I’ve been going on . . . .” she gave sheepish little smile. “. . . but it’s been really nice having someone to just hang out with and talk with. And it was nice doing something normal . . . like shopping . . . even for a little bit. It’s just . . . .”

She let the sentence trail off, but it didn’t take a ton of imagination to understand what she was saying.

So I finished the sentence for her. “Hard? Stressful? Exhausting?”

She gave that weary smile again and nodded. “Yeah. All of those.”

I felt so sorry for her. “Hey, I’m not doing anything right now . . . you know . . . literally. If you ever need anything . . . if there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”

Now I got an appreciative smile. “Thanks,” she said, but I wasn’t convinced.

I gave her hand another squeeze – probably a little harder this time. That got her attention.

“I mean it,” I said, quite intently. “Don’t be a martyr . . . take my help . . . because I’m not sure how long I’ll be around.”

She nodded and I got a bigger smile. “Okay . . . I will. I mean it.”

“I remember your grandmother from . . . .” I sort of stopped. We both knew when I knew her from. It took a second for me to start up again – I’d kind of thrown myself off. 

“I knew her . . . and I really liked her. She was a wonderful woman . . . so I want to help if I can.”

“Okay.” This time I got a full on Erin smile. She had such an amazing smile when she turned it on. And right now she was giving it to me. It made those butterflies in my stomach stir a bit.

But I wasn’t done. “Have you got your phone?” I asked . . . or maybe demanded. I’d always been a take-charge kind of person. I just needed something to take charge of.

“Uh . . . yeah.” Erin seemed maybe a little uncertain.

“Well, get it out,” I pretty much ordered. “I’m going to give you my number. That way you can call me . . . or text me . . . any time you need something.” I softened my intensity for just a second to add, “Even if you just need someone to talk to . . . or if you need to vent. Whatever. Call.”

Erin dug her phone out and I gave her my information. She seemed so appreciative . . . but I felt like it was the least I could do. I got her number in return . . . just in case.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she gushed as she put her phone away.

I just laughed. “Well, you never know. I might need my personal shopper again.”

She snorted. “Yeah, because you’re so hopeless at picking out your own clothes.”

Right back to high school I always dressed nice. I wasn’t necessarily trendy . . . I just liked nice clothes and I liked to look good.

Erin glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit, I’ve got to go,” she exclaimed.

I found myself staring at her. She was gathering up her stuff when I guess she noticed the way I was looking.

“What?” she asked, almost a little self conscious.

I just grinned. 

“What?” she asked again, now looking down at her clothes and brushing a hand through her hair.

I finally laughed. “Sorry. I’ve just never heard you swear before.”

It was true. Back when I’d known her in school, I would swear all the time – I guess I thought I was some kind of bad girl (although that was a joke) – but Erin never swore. In fact, she used to give me shit (or probably I should say, heck) any time I swore around her. It was another thing I remembered about her.

Her smile was a little sheepish. “Hanging out with high school kids, you’d be amazed how I’ve expanded my vocabulary.”

I had to laugh. You definitely couldn’t show any weakness with them . . . and you wouldn’t get too far suggesting they shouldn’t swear.

“The hard part is not to take it home. Gran heard me say ‘shit’ once and she reamed me out for an hour, I think. If she could have gotten out of her bed, I’m sure she would have washed my mouth out with soap.”

Now I really laughed.

We headed out. Of course we got to Erin’s car first . . . because she parked only a half dozen slots back from the door. She turned to me and before I could say anything, she gave me a big hug.

When she stepped back I saw that big smile of hers again.

“Thank you so much for this afternoon, Jess. I don’t think you know how much it’s helped me.”

I smiled back and just kind of shrugged, like to say, “No big deal.”

“Will I see you again?” she asked. I sensed a bit of uncertainty in her voice.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” The truth was, hanging out with Erin had seemed to lift my spirits too. I know there were still all those lingering questions in my head . . . but I couldn’t deny that she was fun to just be around.

“Can I invite you for dinner some time?” She couldn’t quite hide the anxiety in her voice.

I found myself staring at her, biting my lip. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I had all kinds of uncertainty, so I almost surprised myself when I said, “Sure.”


	5. Chapter 5

That evening mom and I made dinner together – just like in the old days – and afterwards I helped dad clean up and do dishes.

They both commented – more than once – on what a good mood I seemed to be in.

I just shrugged . . . but I knew the reason deep down.

At one point my mom got a concerned look on her face and asked, “Did Troy call you?” The possibility seemed to legitimately worry her.

Troy and I had had such an on-again/off-again relationship . . . I could understand my mother’s fears. But I just gave a harsh laughed. “No, he didn’t. And don’t worry . . . that’s over.” I’m not sure she completely believed me – given my track record – but I had no doubts.

I stood there, watching her as she chopped some vegetables for the salad. I decided it was time to come clean with her. 

“Troy and I didn’t just split up,” I said, trying to keep my voice as level and dispassionate as possible. I’m not sure I succeeded.

Mom looked up. 

“He was screwing around with some woman from his office. He dumped me and moved in with her. So you don’t need to worry. We’re definitely not getting back together . . . ever.” Yeah, I couldn’t keep the loathing out of my voice as I spoke.

Mom looked appropriately shocked. She stepped over to me. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” she said as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me close.

I let her, but to be honest, I was well past any kind of pain . . . if I’d ever had any. 

The break-up really was long overdue. It was almost a relief when he went. Of course I would have preferred he wasn’t fucking some slut on the side . . . but whatever.

After mom finally released me I took a big sip of my wine and said, “Really, I’m better off without him, right?”

Mom smiled. “Right.” She touched her glass to mine and we both drank.

I put that behind me and went back to feeling good.

After dinner we headed to the living room again. While mom and I had another glass of wine and chatted, dad read a magazine but still managed to throw out the odd comment.

Soon mom and I both found our books and started to read too. I was really enjoying reading just purely for the fun of it.

About seven thirty I found I was getting a bit restless, and by eight I decided I needed to do something. “I think I’m going to go for a walk,” I announced.

My parents looked up. “Going someplace in particular?” mom asked. I’m sure she was wondering if I’d met someone and whether that might account for my good mood.

I ruined her hopes though. “No, I just think a little fresh air would be nice. You know, help me clear my head.”

My parents both nodded. As I grabbed my coat and hat . . . and of course my new boots and scarf . . . I heard mom call, “Dress warm. It’s supposed to be cool out tonight.”

I smiled. I guess even if I was twenty-seven, and had a college degree, mom still saw me as her little girl who had to be reminded how to dress when I went out. 

I wandered aimlessly down the streets of the neighborhood, breathing in the cool air and feeling invigorated. On a whim I gathered up a handful of snow, squeezed it into a snowball, and threw it at a mailbox. I was pleased when it hit dead center. I’d played a lot of softball when I was young. I always did have a pretty good arm.

I didn’t really pay any attention to where I was going – at every corner I just randomly decided to turn or go straight – but suddenly I found myself outside of Erin’s grandmother’s house. 

I froze . . . and just stared at it. It was only a couple of blocks from my parent’s place, so I guess it wasn’t surprising I might wander past it. I didn’t think I’d somehow steered myself to it on purpose . . . but I wasn’t sure.

It had been a while since I’d seen the place. It was a small, neatly kept war-time house. It really hadn't changed all that much over the years.

I stood there, staring. I felt a strange lump form in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know what to do.

I considered going up to the door and knocking. I didn’t have any idea if Erin would even be home . . . probably I guess. I had no idea what I’d say to her if she was, though. 

After what seemed a long time, I turned to walk away . . . but froze again. I felt so uncertain . . . so confused. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself and make some sense of it all.

I took one step . . . and then another and finally resolved to head home.

When I got there I retreated to my room. 

I tried to read for a bit . . . but I was too distracted.

It was this whole thing with Erin. I’d really enjoyed spending time with her that afternoon. She always was fun to be around. 

I liked hanging out with Aimee too – she was definitely my best friend – but she had her family now and was just in a different place than me.

I wondered if Erin’s situation – with her grandmother – drew me to her. Let’s face it, I was looking for something useful to focus on and I did like to help. And I guess I liked how much Erin seemed to appreciate my just being there.

I couldn’t deny my sense, though, that Erin still had some lingering feelings for me. Who knew if that was even real. Maybe she was just distracting herself by focusing on something that once had been exciting and fun – not that it ended up that way.

There were just too many questions . . . too much uncertainty. I realized I wasn’t going to make any sense of it that evening . . . I’d just have to wait and see how things played out.

I turned back to my book, but I still struggled to focus. I found myself looking at my phone. I picked it up and flipped through the contact information until I found Erin.

I thought for a long time . . . about all we’d talked about that afternoon and how emotional Erin had been. I felt a legitimate concern for her, so I typed, “How are you doing? I hope I didn’t mess you up with all my questions this afternoon.”

I hesitated and almost deleted it . . . but then finally I hit ‘send’.

I sat there, not knowing if Erin would have her phone on or near enough to hear the text arrive or if she’d even bother checking it. I suddenly realized how nervous I felt. I was getting that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach again.

I was starting to think the text had been a mistake when I heard a buzz – a new text had arrived.

I fumbled with my phone. I found myself smiling when I saw it was a response from Erin.

“Doing fine. Gram’s having a good day. I guess she enjoyed her visitors.”

A second later I got another message. “Like I told you, I was glad for the distraction. And glad to have someone I could talk to about things. I really did feel better afterwards. All you. Thanks.” She added a couple of smiley face emojis.

“Any time,” I sent back, and added some smiley face emojis of my own.

There was a long break. I thought that we were done texting for the evening. Oddly, I felt a little disappointed about that.

But then another text arrived. I rushed to open it.

“I was wondering . . . would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?”

I felt an odd rush of excitement. I didn’t even pause to consider if us getting together for dinner at her place would be a good idea. And then I remembered.

Reluctantly I typed, “Sorry, have an invite to Aimee’s. Another time?” 

I really felt bad . . . and maybe a bit disappointed.

Erin seemed to take some time again. Finally she wrote, “Sunday is family dinner for you, right? Not sure about my week. I’ll have to get back to you.” She’d added a frowny emoji.

I was a little surprised she’d remembered that we always had dinner as a family on Sundays. I thought about inviting her over, but I knew that wouldn’t work with her grandmother.

I really wasn’t sure what to write, but finally I said, “Looking forward to my invite. You know I have a busy social calendar, so make sure to book early.” I added a winking emoji.

I really wanted her to understand I wasn’t blowing her off . . . I did want to get together.

I guess she got the message, because she sent back. “I’ll try to let you know soon. Hope you’ll be able to fit me into your schedule.”

We continued to text back and forth for another hour. A couple of times I considered calling her, but then I decided that for right now, this was comfortable.

Eventually Erin told me she was starting to fall asleep so she had to go. “Shopping must have worn me out. Even more exhausting picking for others. Sorry. Really need to sleep now.”

We said our good-nights and then I put my phone away.

I lay there in the bed, feeling good. Erin always did have that effect on me.


	6. Chapter 6

I showed up on time, but Aimee seemed a bit put out by it.

“I’m not ready yet,” she proclaimed as she grabbed the bottle of wine I’d brought, eyed it carefully, and then hurried to the kitchen to deposit it in the fridge. I followed her. 

She had a chicken casserole in the oven, potatoes and carrots boiling on the stove, and was working on a salad. Clearly ‘not ready yet’ meant she wasn’t ready to just sit back and have a drink. Oddly enough, she seemed to think that meant I shouldn’t imbibe either. She was mistaken.

I helped myself to a beer from her fridge – I’m not beyond mixing my drinks – then pulled up a stool by the little island where she was hard at work. I took a big sip and let out a loud sigh of contentment. “Mmm, that’s good,” I said as Aimee gave me an evil look. It was a surprising statement from me after how I’d felt Thursday morning.

Aimee reached over, wrenched the beer from my hand, tossed it back, and then gave me a satisfied sigh of her own. “Yeah, I needed that,” she proclaimed before she turned back to her chopping.

“Wow, you look like you’ve been working hard,” I told her as I glanced around at the mess that had accumulated from all of Aimee’s prep work. I always found it weird, seeing ‘domestic Aimee’ after all the years of growing up with ‘party Aimee’.

“Yes, and I hope you appreciate it. I did all of this just for you,” she exclaimed. She tossed her hair back and ran a hand over her forehead as if to mop her brow.

I just smiled. “So none of this is for Tyler or the kids?” I raised an eyebrow as I grinned at Aimee.

She shrugged. “They’d be just as happy with Alpha-getti, so yeah, it really is for you.” She paused, gave a little grin, and then added, “Okay, maybe for me too. Some times I have a craving for real food.”

“There you go with those ‘cravings’ again. Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me?” I shot her a questioning look.

Aimee gave me a little scowl before replying, “Definitely not. Don’t even suggest it.” She said it with real distaste, like she thought the mere suggestion could actually cause it to be true.

She finished up the chopping, grabbed my beer again and finished it off. She then grabbed a couple of glasses while assigning me the task of opening the wine I’d brought.

As we shared a glass of I asked, “Where are Tyler and the kids?”

“Downstairs . . . playing video games, or mini sticks, or wrestling or just watching TV.” She gave me a little smile. “I never would have believed it, but Tyler’s great with the kids. I swear he’d rather stay home and play with them than go out for beers with his bros.” She shook her head. “Unbelievable, right?”

I had to agree. The Tyler I recalled from years ago liked nothing better than getting drunk with his buds. So it really was an unbelievable change.

Aimee took sip – it actually might have been a misuse of the word ‘sip’ because she emptied pretty much half her glass – and then looked up like she’d just remembered something.

“Hey, Jenna Smith was in the shop this morning. She said she saw you over at Walmart yesterday. She meant to say hi, but then she had to go chasing after her boys and when she got back she said you were in a deep conversation . . . she thought with Erin Cassidy.” The ‘Erin’ part came out like a question . . . like she didn’t believe it.

I purposely looked away, glancing at some of the kids’ art on the fridge like I’d just noticed it. Aimee’s comments seemed quite casual, but still I felt a little strange.

“I told her I didn’t think you’d be talking to Erin. I was pretty sure you hated her.”

I took a second. I could probably just leave it. Aimee didn’t really seem to be looking for an answer. But instead I took a breath and said, “Yeah, I was talking to Erin. She was feeling kind of stressed. It sounds like her grandmother’s in pretty bad shape, and I guess she’s taking most of the responsibility for her. I think she just needed someone to talk to . . . you know, to maybe vent a little.”

Aimee had emptied her glass and was digging the wine bottle out of the fridge. She’d just given me a little shrug and a ‘who knew’ kind of look.

It felt good being honest with Aimee . . . or maybe because I wasn’t lying to her. I hated having secrets from her . . . only I wasn’t likely to share everything. So I continued. “Yeah, back in school, when I first was doing stuff with Erin . . . remember when she joined the yearbook committee . . . she kind of drove me crazy, always arguing with me.”

“And God knows people weren't allowed to argue with you,” Aimee half mumbled.

I looked at her, feeling surprised and maybe a little hurt.

“What?” Aimee didn’t look guilty in the least. “Come on, Jess, you know back then you were kind of full of yourself at times. There were only two ways that things could be done – your way and the wrong way. You were definitely a little bit pushy and . . . what’s the word . . . overbearing.”

I sure must have looked stunned.

Aimee just grinned. “Hey, sweetie, I love you and I always will, but there’s a reason I would never have joined the yearbook committee or student council or any of that other stuff you were into.”

“You mean besides having no interest and being unwilling to ‘waste your time’ doing all that loser stuff.”

Aimee just shrugged. “Yeah, of course . . . besides that.”

I took a second before saying, “And the reason you wouldn’t join those committees was because I was on them and I was such a bitch?”

She grinned as she took another sip of wine – actually a real sip this time. “Your word, not mine.”

I sat there for a second, thinking about it. Was I really such a bitch back then? I remembered being intense and committed to getting things done, and done right and . . . .

Aimee interrupted me, trying to get me back on track I guess. 

“Yeah, that’s what I remember with the yearbook committee. You always bitching . . . .” She paused and gave me a little grin. “I mean, commenting on Erin and how she was so hard to work with and how you two were always fighting about everything.”

I nodded, remembering that too. I also remembered how things changed over the following months. 

“Yeah, it started out that way . . . but she did have some good ideas . . . and she was one of the few who were willing to actually work on it. I think the two of us did about eighty percent of the work. By the end . . . well, I guess we were kind of friends.”

“And then after grad . . . .” I glanced at Aimee and she nodded. Our grad was known less for the celebration of our completing high school and more for the huge, vulgarity-filled, screaming at the top of my lungs, blowout between me and Troy. “Well, after that Erin and I spent quite a bit of time hanging out. I guess I needed someone to talk to.”

Aimee gave me a puzzled – maybe even a somewhat annoyed – look. “Where was I? Why wouldn’t you talk to me? How come I don’t remember that?”

I just grinned at her. I took a quick look around to make sure Tyler was nowhere in sight before saying, “I’ve got two words for you . . . Warren McKinnon.”

Aimee’s eyes lit up and her face took on a dreamy look. “Warren McKinnon . . . I haven’t thought about him in years.” 

I thought I heard a lusty, “Mmmm,” and then Aimee took her own quick, guilty look around to make sure no one had overheard us. 

She had been a little obsessed with Warren McKinnon the last half of senior year. There were times during that period when I barely saw her.

Almost as if our conversation had triggered some instinctive response, we suddenly heard pounding footsteps on the basement stairs and Tyler burst through the door.

He looked from Aimee to me and back. I’m sure we were looking particularly guilty. The two of us were staring down at the floor or at the counter . . . anywhere but at Tyler.

He paused, like he knew something was up, but he clearly knew better than to ask. Instead he just turned to Aimee and said, “The kids were asking when supper’s going to be ready?”

Aimee gave him a ‘yeah, sure it was the kids’ look, glanced over at the oven clock and said, “Probably fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Tyler nodded. “Uh, it’s chicken casserole?”

Aimee’s eyes narrowed and her lips formed into a tight line that accompanied a precise and very cool, “Yes.”

Tyler nodded again, acknowledging Aimee’s answer, or perhaps her tone or expression. He half turned, and then paused. In a quiet voice he said, “Yeah . . . that sounds good. It’s just . . . you know, Ethan said he’d probably be just as happy with Mac & Cheese.”

Aimee’s clenched her jaw.

“Or maybe Alpha-getti,” I offered with a smile.

Tyler’s face lit up as he turned to me and nodded, but when he spotted Aimee’s darkening face he thought better than to verbally endorse my idea. Instead he turned back to the basement door, muttering as he went, “Yeah, casserole should be good.” A second later he was gone.

Aimee continued to scowl in his general direction while she drained her glass . . . again. She retrieved the wine bottle from the fridge, topped me up – I was maybe half done – and then filled her glass just about to the rim. Someone needed a drink.

I just grinned at her. “I’ve got to hand it to you,” I offered. “You do know your family.”

She let out a little growl and then helped herself to another generous sip. “Where were we anyway?” she finally asked.

I just smiled. I simply said, “Warren McKinnon.”

“Ahh . . . Warren McKinnon.” Aimee got a far away look and that dreamy smile reappeared.

The rest of the evening went by quickly . . . or maybe it was just the alcohol. I thought the supper was wonderful and I told Aimee so. Tyler quickly added his approval – maybe he was sensing he might be in the doghouse if he didn’t get on board – and even the kids ate all that was put on their plates.

I helped Aimee clean up afterwards – okay, realistically, I did three quarters of the work while she began in earnest to work on a second bottle of wine. I was thinking I’d be getting some more wonderful selfies tonight if she kept this up.

I was just about finished with the dishes when Aimee said, “You know, I heard something funny about your friend Erin once . . . a year or two after you two went off to college.”

I felt my stomach tighten but I did my best to seem only vaguely interested. “Yeah, what’s that?” I asked as casually as I could.

“There was this woman . . . what’s her name . . . Emily or Emma or something like that. She was from over in Clearwater but she worked here for a bit. Anyway, she used to come into the salon and once we got talking and she told me she went to the same college as Erin. What college did Erin go to? Do you know what college Erin went to?”

I just shrugged.

Aimee was definitely feeling no pain. I wasn’t sure she was ever going to actually get to her story, but I was nervously waiting to find out what she had heard.

Aimee gave her head a little shake and I thought I saw her eyeballs spinning in opposite directions as she did. Maybe that was my imagination.

Finally she seemed to settle herself down. “I don’t know . . . it doesn’t matter,” she said. “Anyway, this Emily . . . or Emma . . . she said there was a rumor that Erin, you know, maybe wasn’t just into guys.”

I continued to do my best to act disinterested. 

“You know . . . like she was into women too.” I guess maybe Aimee thought I didn’t understand her.

I looked over at her. I took a few seconds before I asked, “Did you believe it?”

Aimee just kind of shrugged. “I don’t know. Erin always acted kind of normal to me. I don’t remember her going out with a lot of guys in high school, though.”

I laughed. “That’s because you had all of them chasing after you.”

That made her grin.

“Besides,” I said, “we had so many losers in our school.”

Aimee looked at me, quite seriously. “Like Tyler?” she asked. I could see a look of uncertainty in her eyes.

I gave her a reassuring smile. “No, sweetie, Tyler’s a great guy. You really lucked out with him I think.”

That made her smile again.

“No, we had losers . . . like Troy.” I couldn’t hide my disgust. Okay, maybe I didn’t even try.

“Yeah, Troy, what a fucking asshole,” Aimee piped up with serious enthusiasm. She fixed me with those glassy eyes of hers. “I told you he was an asshole, didn’t I? Remember . . . back in school . . . I told you, didn’t I?”

I nodded reluctantly. Yes she had. A number of people had told me that. I’m sure deep down I even knew it. I thought I’d finally made the big break at grad. We were done, as far as I was concerned.

But then there was me and Erin . . . and all the confusion that had caused me. I rarely admitted it to myself, but that was a big part of the reason why I went running back to Troy at the start of college. So much for me being a strong, independent woman who understood and accepted who she was. 

As I lay in bed that night I had such mixed feelings. I loved spending the evening with Aimee and her family. I’d played with the kids a bit, but Aimee seemed to jealously guard her time with me.

I think I reminded her of who she used to be – that self image she had from her earlier days when she was ‘fun, cool, party Aimee’ – instead of ‘responsible family Aimee’. I knew she wouldn’t give her kids or her husband up for anything, but I’m sure sometimes she dreamed about those carefree days. Who didn’t.

I found the rumor about Erin to be a bit troubling. It was from years ago, I realized, but I wondered if it was common knowledge . . . and how much credibility people gave it. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it to Erin . . . and if I did, I wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up.

I mean, I knew there had been something between Erin and me that summer . . . . I had no idea, though, if that was who she really was, or if that was just one of those teenage things . . . where you’re a little less certain about what you feel and where you might be tempted to experiment a little.

So why was it that when I was around her . . . the two whole times I’d been around her since I’d been back . . . I felt so strange? I really wasn’t sure if that was me or her, though . . . or maybe bit of both.

I was convinced there was something there. I was convinced she had some kind of feelings for me – though I really wasn’t sure I could define them. But I was also thinking – though I was so unsure – that I felt something too. It was confusing.


	7. Chapter 7

I felt not too bad on Sunday – better than I had on Thursday morning – but not near as bad as I was sure Aimee would be feeling. I confirmed that in the early afternoon when I met up with them at one of the local arena to watch Ethan play hockey. That was something I’d committed to the night before after a few too many drinks.

Aimee definitely looked tired and wasn’t too thrilled by the noise of the pucks smacking into the boards. She had an extra large cup of coffee – or maybe it was hot chocolate – but it didn’t seem to be giving her any extra energy.

Afterwards we took the kids to the local McDonalds for a treat while Aimee and I had coffee. “They have good coffee here,” I commented. Aimee just peered at me like she wished she was in bed with her head under a pillow.

Afterwards I headed home and spent the rest of the day with my parents. It was a bit of a tradition for us that Sundays – especially Sunday evening – were always family time. Mom and I made supper – a pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a pot roast – I’d certainly never cooked one, I knew. It was wonderful.

After we cleaned up we just sat and chatted. It was very relaxing . . . which I found a bit hard to believe.

When I was working, just sitting and talking with my parents left me feeling restless . . . like I should be doing something more productive. It’s like I craved activity . . . and probably stress. 

Had I maybe burned out a little pushing myself all the time in college and at my job? Now that I sat back and thought about it, I was pretty certain I had.

As the evening wore on – and my parents settled in with their books – I decided to go for another walk. I probably walked for an hour, just letting my mind wander as I went. I made it to the corner by Erin’s place – and I paused for a couple of minutes there – but I didn’t walk by the house and I didn’t consider stopping by to visit. I realized I wasn’t ready for that, I guess.

When I got home I grabbed my book and headed up to my room to read a little before I went to sleep. It was just before nine when I heard my phone buzz. I checked and found there was a text from Erin.

I can’t deny I was happy to see it. I opened it immediately.

“Just bored. Are you up to anything?” her text read.

I found myself smiling. I started to type, paused, backspaced over it, started again . . . and then paused again. I closed my eyes and tried to decide what I wanted to say. Finally I wrote, “Not doing much. Why don’t you just call? Didn’t I tell you to call?”

I felt a little nervous as I hit send . . . and then waited. I felt a knot growing in the pit of my stomach and I started to doubt myself.

My phone buzzed and I looked at Erin’s text. “Some things don’t change. You’re still bossy.” She’d added a winking emoji.

I’d just finished reading it when my phone rang. I answered it immediately. I wondered if Erin could hear the big smile that lit up my face as I said, “Hello.”

We talked for about half an hour. We didn’t really talk about anything in particular . . . we just chatted. As always, I found I really enjoyed talking to her. Erin knew how to make me laugh, and her stories from the classroom were particularly hilarious.

At one point there was a little lull in the conversation, and Erin said, in an unusually serious tone, “I’ve got a favor I’d like to ask you.” She sounded nervous.

“Sure,” I said immediately. I’d meant what I said. I was happy to help out any way I could. And if that made things easier or less stressful for Erin, all the better.

“Um . . . ,” she started, but then paused. After a moment she said, “Just a second, okay?”

She obviously set the phone down. I could hear some faint talking in the background but I couldn’t make it out. 

I waited, probably three or four minutes, before Erin came back. “Sorry,” she said, all in a rush. “Gran’s having some issues so I have to go. If I get a chance later and it’s not too late, I’ll try calling you back. I really am sorry.”

“Hey, no problem,” I said, trying to reassure her. “Your Grandmother’s your priority. I understand that. So, yeah, give me a call back if you have a chance. Hopefully I won’t be too busy to take it.”

She seemed maybe a little uncertain, so I added, “That’s a joke. If you feel like talking, give me a call. I’m just reading, so you won’t be interrupting anything.”

“Okay, thanks.” She sounded happy. “I’ve really have to go. We’ll talk later. Bye, Jess.”

I said, “Bye,” and hung up. I was smiling. Erin just seemed to have that effect on me. 

I found myself much more relaxed as I began reading my book. I was definitely hoping she’d call back. After all, she’d asked about some favor . . . and then left me hanging. I didn’t do well not knowing things.

It was two days later and I still didn’t know what this ‘favor’ was. It’s not like it was bugging me or anything . . . I was just curious. Curious what it was, and curious why Erin wouldn’t tell me, and curious whether she was intentionally making me wait because she knew it would drive me crazy. So yeah, not knowing wasn’t bothering me in the least.

Erin hadn't called back Sunday night. She’d sent me a text Monday morning apologizing and saying she was up late tending to her grandmother and then was wiped out and just needed to sleep. “Must be well rested to face the hostile horde,” was how she put it. That made me smile.

I told her I totally understood. Well, actually I first told her I stayed up until 3:00am waiting for her call and was crushed when it never came. I think she knew I was teasing because she responded, “You really needed to get a life.” That made me laugh.

Monday afternoon I spent a couple of hours at the salon where Aimee worked. I wasn’t having anything done . . . Aimee had called to say she was having a slow day and asked if I wanted to hang out. I decided that sounded like fun.

While I was there I traded a few texts with Erin, I assume when she had free periods. She told me she had to stay at school late because she was a ‘sponsor’ for one of the girl’s basketball teams, and they had a game that night. 

At first I asked her if that meant she was coaching or something. Erin had been a cheerleader in high school, but I didn’t remember her being the sporty type. I was ready with all kinds of digs, but she disappointed me by saying she wasn’t coaching, just required to attend as a school rep. It was a bit of a let down.

Aimee, of course, was curious about who I was getting all the texts from. I was just going to tell her it was a friend . . . and be all mysterious about it. I figured that would drive her crazy. No point me being the only one taking that particular trip. I guess I’m getting soft, though, because I ended up telling her it was Erin. 

“Oh, you girls are all buddies now, are you?” she asked. There was maybe a hint of attitude in her voice. 

I just laughed at her, though. “Us single girls have to stick together,” I told her. “I haven’t been around for a while, so I don’t know what’s happening here in town on the single’s scene.”

Okay, maybe Erin wasn’t the ideal person to give me pointers on the local singles action . . . though I honestly didn’t know because we’d never talked about anything like that. I guess I was just making up an excuse for Aimee.

“Hey, you know I can help you out there,” Aimee protested. She was definitely sounding a little sulky about this whole thing.

I gave her the raised eyebrows and asked, “Really? You spend all your time with the kids doing sports and school stuff. Tell me, when do you get time to keep on top of what happening with all the singles?”

I found a little smirk as I asked, “And tell me . . . why are you keeping track of what’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

That seemed to fluster her. “I . . . I . . . I just hear stuff . . . you know . . . here at the salon. People talk some times. I hear lots of things.” 

She seemed plenty annoyed, and probably even more so because I was laughing again. Maybe it sounds like I was being mean, but this was just the way Aimee and I were.

“Hey, if I want to know the local gossip, I’ll definitely come to you,” I joked. I’m not sure Aimee was appreciating my sense of humor.

Since I could see she was annoyed, I got up and gave her a big hug.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I told her. “You’ll always be my bestie.”

“But,” I said to her in my most serious voice, “if I keep going out to the bars with you, I’m going to be bankrupt, you’re going to be divorced and both of us are going to be in rehab.”

She laughed at that.

“No kidding,” she said. “I just can’t handle it like I used to. I never remember having a hangover like I did last week.” Somehow, she kind of made it sound like it was my fault.

Since we’d touched on the topic of Erin, I was a little relieved that Aimee hadn’t repeat those rumors she’d told me. I was hoping that was a good sign that they were old news and nothing for Erin to be concerned about.

While Aimee and I chatted, I traded a few more texts with Erin. She made mention of this ‘favor’ a couple of times, but even when I asked about it, she managed to avoid giving me any kind of clue as to what it could be. 

The last time I asked, her response was merely, “Wouldn’t you like to know!!” The emoji she added was sticking it’s tongue out (how childish, right). I think she definitely knew she was bugging me. I’d have to find a way to get payback.

Just a bit after I’d left the salon Erin texted and said that since she was probably going to be home late, she didn’t think she’d get a chance to talk to me that evening. She mentioned she had a free period after lunch on Tuesday, and asked if I wanted to meet up for coffee at Florentine’s, a local cafe. 

I agreed.

So here I was, waiting in a booth at Florentine’s. The lunchtime rush was wrapping up, and the place was emptying out. I glanced down at my watch. Erin had said she’d meet me at 1:30 . . . and it was already . . . 1:25. Yeah, like usual, I’d gotten there early (that was typical of me), but that didn’t stop me from feeling slightly annoyed that I was having to wait. I’m sure I wasn’t being unreasonable.

A minute later Erin entered. When she spotted me she gave me that big, lovely smile of hers and rushed over to join me.

“So, have you been waiting long?” she asked. There was a hint of a smirk. Did she remember my habit of arriving early for things? Maybe. She seemed to have a pretty good memory.

The waitress came by and Erin ordered a coffee, plus a piece of apple pie. “It really is divine,” she informed me. I hated to see her eat alone . . . so I told the waitress to bring two forks. That got me a bit of a scowl form Erin, but she didn’t say anything.

We chatted until the waitress brought Erin’s coffee and pie. I grabbed the second fork and was looking to help myself to a chunk when I notice how Erin had her fork poised, just over the slice, like she was defending it. 

I glanced up at her. She gave me a steely look and in a soft, threatening voice said, “Go ahead . . . help yourself . . . I dare you.”

I was a little unsure. I slowly reached forward, wondering the whole time if I was about to get a fork in the hand. When my fork was just about to the pie I saw Erin’s hand twitch and I instinctively yanked my hand back. 

She let out a merry little laugh, helped herself to a large chunk of the pie and then slid the plate out into the center of the table. “Help yourself,” she said, “and tell me if you don’t think this is the best apple pie ever.”

I quickly got a piece, because the way Erin was going at the pie, I didn’t think there’d be any left soon.

“Mmm, this is good.” I had to admit, it was a very tasty pie. 

I reached in for another fork full, just as Erin did. The two of us ended up dueling with our forks as we each fought for a piece. We were both giggling like teenagers. I’m sure the other people in the restaurant were looking us over and thinking we were acting rather childish. I didn’t care, and I don’t think Erin did either.

Eventually I managed to scoop another piece, and I sat there grinning as I shovelled it into my mouth.

Erin grabbed the plate and pulled it close to her. She was almost hunched over top of it. “I think you’ve had enough,” she said in what I was sure was her authoritative teacher’s voice.

“Fine, be a little piggy,” I shot back. I made obnoxious snorting noises which I’m sure also caught the attention of the other customers.

“Stop it,” Erin hisses. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Totally your fault,” I told her. “Piggy, piggy, piggy!”

She started to laugh and I did too. 

She grinned and slid the plate back out into the middle of the table so I could have a piece. Of course when I went to poke some she yanked the plate back again . . . and laughed.

“I’d forgotten what a brat you can be,” I said, but I was laughing too.

She slid the plate over to me and I got a grip on it as I poked another piece. Afterwards I let it go so she could have some – I wasn’t the piggy!

We finished off the pie quickly – sharing the last few pieces without any more incidents.

“That was the best,” Erin enthused as she finished.. I let her have the last piece, which I figured was the least I could do, given that she was the one who’d ordered it.

I nodded. “That was definitely good apply pie,” I had to agree.

I saw a big smile spread across her face and her eyes drifted a bit. “When I was young, after church, Gran used to bring me here sometimes and let me have a slice of the apple pie.” Her voice sounded so happy recalling that memory from her childhood.

I could relate – really, who couldn’t. There were plenty of little traditions we’d had when I was young that always brought on those nostalgic feelings whenever I thought about them.

I let her bask in the warmth of that cherished memory for a moment . . . before I brought her back to the present and to more pressing issues.

“So . . . what was that favor you were asking me about?”

Her eyes refocused on me. Her grin might have even broadened a bit.

“It really is driving you crazy,” she said . . . and seemed maddeningly please about it.

“No, of course not,” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. But then of course I snapped. I leaned across the table, grabbed her hand firmly in mine and fixed my (probably crazed) eyes on hers.

“Yes! Yes, it’s driving me crazy. Tell me what it is! Tell me right now!” My voice got maybe a little loud and I’m sure anyone watching me might have assumed I was losing it (and I think a few people were turning an eye to us again . . . whoops).

Really, it was all just an act. I was sure Erin knew that. That was why she was feigning horror and shrinking away from me.

Okay, she actually was grinning, so yeah, she did get my somewhat goofy sense of humor.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you,” she finally said.

She sat back and eyed at me. I was surprised to see she actually looked a bit nervous.

“Um, I’m teaching a business class this semester,” she started.

I giggled. “You’re teaching business?”

Maybe my tone was a bit condescending, because Erin sat up a little straighter, her lips formed into a tight line and her eyes hardened. “Yes, I’m teaching business. I’ve got the curriculum and all my class notes. I do, in fact, know what I’m talking about.”

I’d definitely struck a nerve. 

“Erin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. Really, I was just joking. I’m sorry.” I did feel bad.

She looked at me . . . and then nodded slowly, apparently accepting my apology. I felt relieved.

Of course then she shook her head, rolled her eyes, and said, “Shit, who am I kidding. I don’t know anything about business. I’ve read the notes and I can teach the basic stuff, but I really don’t understand half of it.”

I assumed that was where I came in . . . but she had a much more specific task in mind for me.

“The next section is on the stock markets,” she said, and she sounded a little forlorn. “What the hell do I know about the stock market,” she grumbled.

I found it funny, but I was still having a hard time getting use to Erin’s new ‘expanded’ vocabulary. From how I remembered things, it was so not her. I guess she’d changed. I wondered what differences there were about me that would stand out for her.

She looked at me with those big blue eyes, beseeching me. “I cleared it with our principal . . . and you can say no if you want . . . but would you do me a huge favor and talk to my class about the stock market?”

I’ve got to say, this certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. I think I sat there, maybe slightly stunned, staring at her.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Please, please, please,” she all but begged. “I’ll even let you have the last piece of pie next time.”

I laughed. “Yeah, as if,” I responded.

She got a crooked little smile on her face. “Hey, I remember this woman from high school who could never resist an opportunity to get up in front of the class and show everybody how smart she was. Think of this as one more opportunity to show off your big brain.”

I was still just staring at her, which I think was scaring her, because she started up again with the sales pitch. “Come on, you probably know more about this than anyone else around here. This should be easy for you. Just dumb it down a bit so us normal people can understand. Can you do that for me? Please?”

I couldn’t help grinning when I finally spoke. “Sure. No big deal. You’ll just have to give me some idea of what you want covered and how detailed you want it . . . and how much time I have. Oh, and do you have hook-ups for my computer, or a Smart Board or something so I can show images or examples. Sometimes that’s easier.”

Yes, that was just like me to jump right in. I was already planning in my head what I’d cover and what I’d say. Like I’ve said, I was in need of a project to focus on and this sounded perfect for me. I was excited.

It was nice to see that Erin looked extremely happy too. This was going to be fun, I decided.

She did get a bit of a nervous look again when she said, “Oh, I guess I should mention . . . I wanted to teach it next week. Probably Tuesday. Does that give you enough time?” 

She looked quite anxious . . . so of course I took my time pondering my answer. When I decided she’d suffered enough I just laughed and said, “Tuesday’s no problem. I could probably do this today . . . but it would be nice if I could put together some material and some slides for the presentation.”

She looked so relieved.

Erin said she’d give me the curriculum information, just so I knew what was meant to be covered.

I suggested I put together a quick overview and then sit down with her to get a better idea on how much depth she wanted to get into. I also wanted her to give me feedback to make sure I wasn’t getting carried away. You know how it is, presenting something you understand intimately. Its so easy to lose your audience in the minutia. I really didn’t want to do that.

We agreed to get together Thursday after school and cover the overview.

“I’ll have the first cut at the presentation by Friday,” I told her.

She seemed surprised . . . and maybe a little impressed.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Hey, I was used to delivering on way tighter deadlines than this. And that was when I had lots on my plate.

“Yeah, no problem,” I assured her. “It’s not like I’m working on anything else, right? I’ll just warn you, though, that I’ll probably put more into the first draft than we need. I always find it easier to cut out material than to try and jam new material in. You can help me with that, though.”

Erin looked maybe a little doubtful, but I was confident.

“Well,” she said, “do you want to get together at Gran’s place on Saturday afternoon? We can go through it then . . . and you’ll still have lots of time to make any changes.”

She dropped her eyes and looked oddly shy as she quietly added, “And if you want, you can stay for dinner.”

I found myself staring at her, feeling very uncertain. I really loved hanging out with her . . . she was so much fun. I just worried . . . was she looking for us to be more than just friends?

And just as important, I realized . . . what was I looking for? As I eyed her, I was painfully aware that I honestly didn’t know.

A part of me said that I should take a pass on the dinner, but instead I heard myself saying, “Sure, dinner would be nice.”

I was rewarded with a big, beautiful Erin smile. I honestly did enjoy that. Nonetheless, I still felt all that uncertainty and confusion roiling around in my stomach, making me feel almost queasy. 

Erin was pretty much out of time, so she said we could text to figure out any details.

“Or even just call,” I told her . . . probably sounding bossy again. 

Not too bossy, though, I guess, because it got a smile out of her.

“So, did you park close? I’m just down around the corner,” she told me as she slipped on her jacket and prepared to face the winter again.

I laughed. “Actually, I walked,” I told her.

She froze for a second, staring at me like I was talking some foreign language.

“Really?” she asked. I could tell from her tone she totally thought I was kidding her.

“Yeah, really,” I said. “I don’t have a car . . . so I walked. It was nice. Very invigorating.”

She was still staring at me like I was perhaps losing it. At this point that could have been based on my revelation about the car (or rather my lack of one) or my insistence that I’d enjoyed the walk – which was about 25 minutes – in winter.

“I just about never drive,” I told her. “Even back in high school I almost never drove. Remember, any time you and I went anywhere, you always drove.”

“That’s just because I could get Gran’s car . . . ,” she started, and then paused, staring at me still. She gave her head a little shake, like she wasn’t believing any of this.

“How did you use to get to school if you didn’t drive?” she asked, still sounding baffled.

I had to laugh. “Aimee drove me. Don’t you remember that rusty old Datsun she had?”

I thought I saw a little light coming on in her eyes. “That’s right . . . or Troy drove you . . . .”

My face must have darkened at the mention of his name because Erin’s sentence sort of petered out and her slight smile was replaced with a guarded expression.

“Sorry . . . am I not supposed to use that name anymore?” Her voice was very tentative.

I gave her a tight little smile and said, “When I have to refer to him, I just substitute a more appropriate words . . . like asshole or bastard or . . . .”

I guess my voice was building, because Erin held up her hands as if to calm me down. I think I might have been drawing attention to us again. It was a good thing the place was only sparsely populated now.

She put her hand on my arm and gave it a squeeze as I made an effort to calm myself down.

“Sorry, Jess. I heard you two had split, but . . . well, I wasn’t sure about any of the details.”

I gave a little snort. “Yeah, and it’s not like me and Troy haven’t split up before.” I could understand how people might not take our break up that seriously.

I decided to set it straight, though, again. “This time it’s done. I’ve filed for divorce. It was long overdue.” I shook my head. “Really, I never should have married that asshole in the first place.”

Erin opened her mouth like she meant to ask a question . . . but then stopped herself. She stared at me for a second (I sensed there was something she wanted to ask) but then glanced down at her watch.

“Shit, I’ve got to run,” she said. She gave me a quick little hug and then turned to go. “I’ll text you,” she said over her shoulder as she pushed through the door.

I watched her hurry around the corner . . . and then she was gone.

I stood there for a second and found I was smiling. I wasn’t all that surprised . . . but I found that I really did enjoy hanging out with Erin. I still wasn’t certain, though . . . could we just be friends? Is that what she wanted? An even bigger question . . . is that what I wanted?

I put my ear buds in, turned on my music and headed out into the cold. One great thing about walking was it gave me time to think.


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday night Aimee and I returned to the scene of the crime . . . that being our total, complete and stupid intoxication at O’Bryan’s the week before. We were back. 

As I’d predicted, Tyler had been a little less thrilled to hear the two of us were going out again. I think he was already starting to view me as a bad influence on his wife. I was of the opinion that the bad influence was actually sitting across the table from me.

Tonight, though, we were much more under control – which was good. Both Aimee and I remembered how we’d suffered the previous Thursday. I had no wish to live though that again – at least not so soon.

Apparently the hangover had even slowed Aimee down. That was fine. That way we spent more time talking.

We picked up from where we’d left off when I’d visited the salon. Aimee seemed to want to demonstrate to me just how much gossip she gathered at work. I’d have to say I was amazed – and maybe a bit horrified – by what people said while they were there.

She spent a good fifteen minutes relating all the rumors she’d heard about me. Who knew I was so popular? Actually, based on the nature of most of the local talk, I’d have to say ‘popular’ perhaps wasn’t the right term. I guess I was a ‘popular’ topic . . . but the nature of the gossip was mostly less than flattering.

It was everything from me being fired for incompetence (losing the company a billion dollars!! Yikes!), to being on the run after embezzling money from my company (yeah, the cops would never think to look for me at my parent’s place), to me being a serial cheater who Troy eventually threw out, and my absolute favorite . . . me being tied up in some sex ring where I was using the services of gigolos for myself and clients.

Aimee swore she’d straightened out most of the people who’d shared these delightful stories. I had no doubts about that. I would have like to have been a fly on the wall to hear a few of those conversations. Aimee was typically very protective of me – probably even more so now that she’d developed all those highly protective ‘mommy’ skills.

I gave her a sideways look. “Are you sure you aren’t the one starting all these rumors?” I demanded. We both had a good laugh about that.

I told her about the project I was working on for Erin and her class. 

She listened and her face remained inscrutable. I’d maybe expected some more of her less than wonderful attitude, but she seemed to keep herself in check.

“So, you’re going to take up teaching?” she asked when I’d finished telling her about it.

I just smiled. “High school teacher? I don’t think so. How crazy would you have to be to do that? Really, I’m more of a guest lecturer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But teacher . . . that’s what your pal Erin is,” she pointed out.

I just smiled and shrugged. “I never said she was totally sane.”

I got a little smile out of Aimee.

“So,” I asked, “what do your gossipy clients have to say about Erin? Give me some dirt.”

Aimee just shrugged. “I heard she’s a good teacher. The parents seem to like her . . . and apparently so do the kids. I guess they bug her because she used to be a cheerleader – she’s still got a picture up on one of the walls somewhere. Oh, and everyone thinks she’s a saint for taking care of her grandmother like she does.”

“Well, that’s certainly not good dirt,” I grumbled. I decided to give Aimee one more try. “What about, you know, boyfriends or whatever?” I asked.

Aimee gave me a look – that ‘shouldn’t you know these things’ look.

I held my hands up. “Hey, we just reconnected. We haven’t honestly had much of an opportunity to sit and chat.” Well, certainly not about relationship stuff. Should I have wondered why I was so curious?

Aimee shrugged. “I heard she had some kind of relationship going when she first started coming back . . . you know, when her grandmother fell. Rumor was there was someone back in Dayton – I guess that’s where she was teaching – but apparently that ended when she moved here. Since then, I get the impression she’s pretty preoccupied taking care of her grandmother and doesn’t get out much. I’m sure something like that doesn’t exactly put you in the mood for romance.”

That made sense . . . I guess. I was curious about the Dayton thing, but I figured I’d asked Aimee enough questions about Erin. So we turned to the serious business of drinking. Well, not too serious, because neither of us wanted to pay the price . . . again.

So like good, respectable women we called it a night around 10:30. Tyler came and got Aimee. I’d maybe won back a bit of favor with him by not delivering a totally shit-faced wife this time.

Again he offered me a ride home, and again I told him I’d walk. It seemed longer than the last time, not having Erin to chat with. I found myself thinking about that walk . . . still trying to understand where I stood and where she stood and what exactly was going on between us. I didn’t really make a lot of headway . . . but I guess that was no great surprise.


	9. Chapter 9

I glanced into the classroom and grinned as I watched Erin at the front explaining something to the students. There was about five minutes left in class (big surprise – I was early), so I was waiting in the hallway. I waved at her, starting small and making my gestures increasingly grander until I finally caught her eye. She gave me a little nod to let me know she’d seen me. 

I glanced up and down the hallways to make sure there was no one around, and then I started making an assortment of stupid faces at her.

I made sure I stood where only she could see me. I didn’t want the students to get the wrong impression of me. There’d be plenty of time for that.

Erin seemed to be having a hard time focusing on whatever it was she was saying – I considered that a win – and she seemed to be struggling to keep herself from laughing. Also a win.

When the bell rang I stood off to the side to let her classroom empty before I slipped in. She still had a couple of students – both guys – up at her desk asking her questions. I could see the puppy dog looks in their eyes. I guess some of her students had something for their teacher. I decided that was worth noting. I was certain I could find a way to fit that into some future teasing.

After a couple of minutes I heard Erin say, “I’m sorry, Anthony, Mitch, but I have a meeting right now, so I’ll have to talk with you about this tomorrow, okay?”

They glanced my way as she shooed them out, but apparently I didn’t inspire the same kind of adoration. What do high school kids know anyway?

As Erin closed the door I grinned and said, “Looks like you’ve got a couple of admirers.”

She kept her face calm and her smile in place as she slipped into her seat behind the desk. It looked like she wasn’t going to rise to the bait. She was definitely being no fun.

She looked at me. “You’re much goofier than I remember from back in school.” 

I gave her a wide-eyed look. “What?” I asked innocently. It was possible I’d loosened up a bit – okay, probably lots – over the years.

She just gave me a little grin, but didn’t comment further. Instead she headed down a different track.

“You walked?” she asked, like it was an almost inconceivable concept.

I guess my still rosy cheeks gave me away. I just shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a beautiful day out.” Okay, maybe it was a little chilly . . . and it was about a 40 minute walk.

She glanced at her phone. “It’s 20 degrees out.” 

Apparently that didn’t qualify for her as a ‘beautiful day.” “Huh,” I said, “With the sun out, it didn’t feel like it was any colder than . . . I don’t know . . . 22 or so.”

She gave me a concerned look and shook her head like maybe she’d just confirmed her suspicion that I wasn’t quite all there.

“In the four years that you went to this school, did you ever walk here?” she asked. She had that tone that I’m sure she used when she was making a point with a particularly slow but annoying student.

I had to laugh. “You know, you’re right. This is the first time I ever walked to this school.”

Erin was shaking her head, but she was smiling. “You _are_ crazy,” she muttered – with emphasis on the ‘are’, as if she’d just confirmed something she’d always suspected.

I just shrugged. I guess I couldn’t really argue. But the way she said it, you’d think she thought it was a bad thing.

While she was pondering my sanity, I dug though my backpack, pulled out my laptop and fired it up. It was time to get down to business. I had a rough outline on the computer that I showed her.

I thought it was pretty straight forward. I’d introduce myself, talk a little about my education – including the fact I graduated from this very high school – and then get into the jobs I’d done for the last five years. It was going to be quick, but I figured it would establish my credentials.

After that I’d get into a brief discussion of how business were structured (I was just going to talk to corporations and partnerships to keep it simpler), and the equity instruments (shares and partnership units) that resulted, and that could then be traded. I told her I’d only mention commodities in passing.

Once they had a basic understanding of exactly what was being traded, I was going to dive into the history and functions of the stock exchanges. That’s where I figured I’d get into more detail.

Erin nodded as I took her through it. “We’ve already talked about companies and shares and stuff,” she commented.

I looked at her. “Do you want me to skip that then?”

She looked a little sheepish. “I guess maybe you could give them a refresher. It couldn’t hurt.”

From the way she said it, I suspected maybe both her and the kids hadn't really gotten the best handle on the topic. I didn’t say anything, though, I just nodded.

I gave her a bit more detail on how I intended to explain the stock market, and I even showed her how I could go on line – in a practice account through my broker – to actually show them the information available. I suggested we could even do some deals in the practice accounty, so they got a better feel for it.

“Maybe I could show them some information and then we could vote on the shares we’d like to buy. I thought you could track the shares for the remainder of the term, just to reinforce this. Then they could see if they made money or not.”

Erin seemed to like that idea.

It probably took me fifteen minutes to go through it all. When I was done, she told me she was impressed.

She bit her lip, and then admitted, “They’re going to get way more out of this from you than they ever would have if I’d talked about it. Plus,” she added, “you should be able to answer all of their questions.”

I just smiled. “Yeah, sure . . . no problem. If you have any questions from your discussion up to now that you weren’t sure about, you can bring them up and I’ll see if I can answer them too.”

I grinned. “Or if you want, I can make a cheat sheet of questions I’d expect, with the answers for you, so you can wow them with your knowledge.”

I think Erin considered it for a second, but then just shook her head. “Maybe I’ll just get you to be my expert . . . that way if they have any follow-up questions, I won’t look like an idiot.”

She seemed to think for a couple of seconds, and then asked, “So, is an hour going to be enough time for you to go through all of this?”

I considered it. “I can do it in an hour . . . I guess depending on how many questions I get . . . .”

“Would two hours be better?” She held up her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask if you’d be willing to come in for a second day.”

I looked off into the distance as if I were giving it serious consideration. “Yes, I would have to juggle around my schedule to do that. It would certainly be a major inconvenience.” 

We grinned at each other for a second, before I said, “Of course I’d do two classes. Now that you mention it, I think it might work better if we spread it over two classes. That way I wouldn’t be so rushed and I’d have more time to answer questions or to drill down into anything people found more interesting.”

Erin was beaming at me. She gave my hand a squeeze and offered me a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I told her. “I’m looking forward to my job as guest lecturer.” I gave her a little grin. “That’s what I told Aimee I was doing.”

She just shook her head, repeating, “Guest lecturer . . . aren’t you maybe being a little full of yourself.”

I grinned. “Who knows, this could be the start of bigger things. In no time I could be a guest lecturer at Harvard.” I got that far away look like I was imagining it.

Erin just giggled and mutter, “Crazy. Totally, completely insane.”

“Hey, a girl can dream,” I told her.

She gave her head another shake, but she did look amused. She glanced down at her phone and said, “It’s getting late. I’ve got to get going. The Aide Nurse is off today at 4:30, so I want to be home before that.”

I shut my computer down and both of us started packing our stuff up. Erin took me by the ‘teachers’ lounge’, where she kept her coat and boots, and then led me out to the parking lot.

She turned to me just outside the doors, gave me that huge, lovely smile of hers, and said, “Thanks again. I think this is going to be so great. I’m sure the kids will get so much more out of you talking about this than they ever would if I did it.”

I just shrugged. “No problem,” I told her. “I’m actually looking forward to it.”

She grinned. “Some things haven’t changed, apparently. You still love getting up in front of a class and showing off, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “There’s nothing wrong with sharing my knowledge with the next generation,” I said. Maybe I was sounding a little smug, but Erin seemed to let it go.

“I really do appreciate it, though,” she said, and then she stepped closer and gave me a hug. I expected it to be just a quick little thing, but she seemed to linger . . . and I didn’t make any effort to end it.

Finally Erin stepped away. She looked a little sheepish and I found I was feeling about the same. We both seemed to be having a hard time looking at each other . . . but we were both looked happy.

Finally our eyes met. She gave me a little smile. “Thanks,” she said again. “I really do mean it.”

I just smiled back at her.

After another second she gave me a little wave. “Okay, see you later,” she said, as she turned and headed towards her car.

I stood there stunned.

“Uh . . . ,” I started, but I was still so surprised I wasn’t sure what to say.

Erin paused and turned back towards me. “Oh, did you want a ride?” she asked. “I just assumed you wanted to walk home. I know how much you like walking everywhere.” She glanced around before adding, “Especially on a beautiful day like this.”

She spoke like my wanting a ride came as a total surprise to her . . . but the big, goofy grin she had on her face maybe gave away that she was teasing me.

“If it’s not too big of an inconvenience,” I responded, “a ride might be nice.” My voice was as chilly as the air around us.

Erin let out a merry laugh and her eyes twinkled with joy. Apparently she thought she was very amusing. I guess that made one of us.


	10. Chapter 10

I sat in the living room – with a fleece blanket over my shoulders to protect me from the near-freezing temperatures I had to endure (inside the house) – and worked away on my laptop. I was creating PowerPoint slides, grabbing screen shots from the internet and the practice trading account I’d set up, and adding bullet points to highlight the information I thought was relevant. The presentation was coming together quickly, and I was sure Erin would be quite impressed.

I loved having a project to work on . . . it certainly perked me up. Of course it’s possible a bit of my new-found joy came from knowing I was helping Erin.

My parents had commented – again – at supper time about my wonderful mood. I’m not sure if they were making any connections yet, but I certainly was.

I enjoyed hanging out with Erin. I admit it. She really made me laugh. Even on the short drive home from the school, I’d found myself laughing almost continuously as Erin and I joked and teased each other.

When I was around her I seemed to forget about the whole ‘job’ thing and the ‘Troy’ thing. I could just have fun and be goofy – a luxury, I realized, that I had rarely allowed myself these last nine years since I’d left high school.

That on its own was enough to put me in a good mood . . . but I was starting to accept that there may have been something more going on as well. 

From the way Erin looked at me sometimes, the way she teased me, and the way she hugged me . . . I was feeling certain that she had some kind of feelings for me. I had no idea if I was just a distraction from all the heartache and stress that she must have had, dealing with her grandmother’s condition . . . or if it was more than that.

I was reluctantly accepting that I was feeling something too. I just wasn’t exactly sure what it was . . . and I knew I had to deal with it carefully. 

I was only too aware of how I’d hurt Erin the last time (it had messed me up pretty good too). I was certain neither of us needed anything like that again. We both already had more than enough on our plates. 

Besides, how long was I even going to be around? It seemed stupid to even consider starting something when I only intended to be here as long as it took to find another job.

I considered just cutting – or at least minimizing – the time I spent with Erin. That would have been the smart thing to do . . . for both of us. I didn’t want to, though. I realized I was being selfish – and possibly unfair to Erin – but I enjoyed my time with her too much to just stop hanging out. 

“That’d probably upset her anyway, if I was suddenly unwilling to spend any time with her,” I rationalized. “Hadn't she said how much she appreciated having someone she could talk to about her grandmother and everything?” That was true. Right or wrong, I was allowing myself to be convinced . . . because deep down that’s what I wanted. Yep, definitely selfish!

I sat back for a minute, trying to clear my head – or was I trying to distract myself from this line of thinking? I took a sip of wine and glanced around the room. Mom and dad were both reading . . . but I noticed that didn’t stop them from somehow carrying on a conversation at the same time. 

There was five minutes of silence, and then out of the blue dad said, “I saw Mike and Sue Sullivan today . . . down at the bank. They were just coming out when I was going in.”

Five or ten seconds passed, and then as mom turned her page she replied. “Oh, how are they doing? Are they still over in Eastport? They moved there, what, three years ago now?”

It took a few more seconds, but then dad finally answered.

Neither of them looked up from their books or seemed to pause their reading, but that conversation went on – very slowly – over the next ten minutes.

I’d never really noticed it before – I suppose I didn’t spend that much time hanging out with my parents when I was younger – but I found it quite fascinating. I guess after thirty years people just adapt to each other – and if they can’t, I suppose that’s when there’s issues in the marriage.

If Troy had kept interrupting me when I was trying to read or work on something – especially with idle gossip – I would have definitely gotten pissed. That was just the way I was . . . or maybe it’s just the way I was with him.

I tried imagining it with Erin . . . but I couldn’t see her every annoying me the way Troy did. Maybe that was an unfair comparison.

I found myself wondering . . . what would have happened if I hadn't gotten all freaked out that summer . . . if instead I’d stayed with Erin?

I realized immediately this was a strange path to be wandering down. It made me feel very uncomfortable.

“And what’s the point?” I thought. “Who knows if the two of us would have had any better luck together than me and Troy.”

Okay, I knew that was a bit weak, because I was pretty certain Erin wasn’t a lying, cheating piece of shit like Troy. But still, there was no guarantee that the two of us – or anyone else from my past – could have made a go of it. 

In spite of everything, I still suspected I would have had a better chance with Erin than Troy.

I didn’t get any further in my musings, because my mom interrupted me. “What are you thinking about, dear. You look so deep in thought.” Her question came out of the blue.

I turned her way, I’m sure looking totally stunned. I immediately found myself wondering how long she’d been watching me.

She had a bit of a grin on her face. “Whatever it was, it seemed it had you smiling. Some happy thoughts?”

I just shrugged and mumbled something about working on my presentation. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks, though. I hoped my mother didn’t notice.

She watched me for another second or two – I saw a little smile curl the corners of her lips – and then she turned back to her book without another word.

I found myself wondering what my mother – or either of my parents – would say if they knew what I was pondering. What would Aimee say . . . or other people who knew me? How would the world react if they knew I was contemplating what my life would have been like if I’d spent it together with Erin?

I really didn’t know . . . but I found that maybe with the exception of my parents and Aimee (all of whom I was sure would deal with it just fine), I didn’t really care what other people thought. I guess that was typical of me. I always knew best, right?

I was in my room a little after nine, reading, when I heard my phone buzz. I immediately grabbed it . . . and felt that warm glow in my chest when I saw Erin’s name come up.

Her text said, “Hey, are you busy?”

I found myself smiling as I called her number. I really wanted to hear her voice.

So much for all those good, logical thoughts about being cautious and not starting anything when I knew I wasn’t planning to be around for long. Selfish, two-year-old me was taking over, just focusing on what I wanted and not worrying about the potential consequences. Some part of me warned this was a bad idea, but I completely ignored it. Jenn wanted to chat (flirt?) with Erin, so that’s what Jenn was doing.

Erin answered immediately.

“Hey, I’m not getting you at a bad time, am I?” I asked. At least I had the decency to care if she was in the middle of helping out her grandmother or something.

“No, Gran usually wears out about nine, and then usually she’s down for the night.” She paused, and then in a sad voice added, “Unless she’s having a bad night. Then who knows.”

“Well if you need to go . . . or if you’re busy or have stuff to do, just tell me.”

Okay, I guess I wasn’t totally selfish . . . or maybe now that I’d heard her voice, I had my fix and I was able to be a little more considerate. 

But Erin said, “No . . . I think talking to you is the thing I really want to do right now.” I could hear her big, happy smile right through the phone.


	11. Chapter 11

I lay in bed, still smiling, reliving moments from our conversation. It was almost midnight. Erin had said half a dozen times that it was getting late and she really should go . . . but then we’d go off on another topic and still be talking and laughing twenty minutes later. I felt a little bad, since I didn’t have to get up in the morning and face a class full of high school students, but – selfish me again – I really didn’t want to let her go. Apparently she didn’t want to go either. 

So in spite of all of my well reasoned thoughts about keeping things with Erin casual and not starting anything that I wouldn’t be in a position to finish, I was pretty certain we’d taken a huge step towards . . . something. 

And here I was – that calm, always in control, logical and rational person – insanely rushing along, being swept up in the excitement and madly diving headlong into something that was probably going to be a total train wreck. Whatever part of me that ran the common sense department had apparently left on vacation. 

It was like a dream. I could so clearly see the potential for a major disaster . . . but I didn’t care. I was willing to take a chance – I guess both of us were – and hope for the best, regardless of the odds.

Were Erin and I two wounded, troubled people just trying for a moment of happiness and release from our woes? Maybe that was it . . . but it really didn’t seem to matter.

Of course now that we were barrelling down this path, I just wanted to see her and talk to her and spend time with her. So I – or more probably we – were more than a little frustrated by the fact that she already had plans with her parents and her aunt and uncle for Friday evening. They were all coming over – I guess to spend time with her grandmother – and it sounded like they were ordering in. Apparently such family get-togethers were rare for her, so it seemed it was a big thing.

She’d asked if I wanted to join them – I think she might have actually wished I’d say yes to the invitation – but I could see this was a family thing and I’d be completely out of place (my presence would probably raise some uncomfortable questions too – questions that Erin and I weren’t ready to deal with yet). As much as I wanted to see Erin, I didn’t think that would be the best environment, so I reluctantly declined.

“But you’re still coming over on Saturday, aren’t you?” she asked immediately. Did she sound a little anxious?

“Yeah, of course,” I reassured her. “And I’m getting dinner too, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are,” she replied, sounding much happier now. “I hope you like lasagne.”

“I love lasagne,” I told her. I was trying to remember if that was something she knew from years ago. “Does it come with Caesar salad?”

Erin hesitated. “I’ve never made a Caesar salad,” she said. She quickly perked up when she added, “But if you tell me what I need, I can pick it up when I go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

I tried to think. I loved Caesar salad, but it had been years since I’d actually made one. “Let’s see . . . there’s romaine, croutons, parmesan cheese . . . .”

I was trying to remember everything else that went into it when Erin asked, “So should I just get a bottle of dressing at the store?”

I almost gagged. “Store-bought dressing? Don’t you dare.” I’m sure I sounded outraged. Who would consider store-bought dressing for a Caesar salad?

I had an idea. “Don’t worry about the dressing,” I told her. “I’ve got a recipe for it here and I’m sure mom has all the ingredients. I’ll mix it up and bring it over if you get the other stuff.”

She didn’t argue. She seemed quite happy to have me take care of it.

“Since this is all new to you, I’ll be happy to let you make the salad and I can supervise,” I offered. “It’ll be a wonderful learning experience.” I always did like to mentor others.

“So I get to do all the work and you get to watch and critique me? Wow, that sounds like yearbook committee all over again,” Erin moaned. 

She tired to sound like the thought of it made her feel miserable, but I could tell she was just teasing me – so I replied, “Yeah, but we had the best yearbook ever, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did,” she agreed. Her words came out soft, like a happy sigh. I guess working together on the yearbook was a happy memory for both of us.

We were silent for a couple of seconds, I’m sure reminiscing about those simpler times back in high school, when we first got to know each other . . . and, at least for my part, thinking about where that led.

I found I was so looking forward to Saturday, and getting a chance to see Erin. 

I’d tried suggesting that since she was busy after school on Friday, maybe we could get together for lunch. Erin had sighed. She sounded frustrated – I’m thinking (hopefully) with the circumstances and not with me – and she’d said that with the shorter school day on Friday there really wasn’t enough time. She let out another sigh.

Maybe I was giving away how eager I was to see her, but I didn’t really care.

We’d talked about me going over to her place on Saturday about three . . . but I was full of ideas. “Maybe I should come over earlier,” I suggested. “I’m free all day. I’d let you make me lunch too, you know. I wouldn’t even critique it.”

Erin let out a little laugh . . . and then signed again. She was silent for a second or two, and then said, “Oh, Jess, I’d love to – I really would – but with me being so busy during the week and with Gran always being so tired in the evenings, I usually save my Saturday mornings just to spend time with her. I . . . .”

She paused. I could hear the anguish in her voice. I really didn’t want to be putting her in a situation where she felt she had to choose between spending time with her grandmother (honestly, how much time did she have – though I’d never say that) and with me. I may have been selfish, but I wasn’t that selfish.

So I said, “No, that’s fine. You have your time with your grandmother. That’s more important. I should probably be polishing up my presentation anyways, so it’s all ready for you. I don’t want you thinking I did a half-assed job. That wouldn’t be the way to get my guest lecturer career off the ground. I’ll come by at three. That’ll be good.” I did my best to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“Gran’s always at her best in the morning,” Erin explained, and then added, almost regretfully, “I don’t usually get to see her then, except on the weekends. But she usually worn out by two or so and has an afternoon nap. So if you want to come a little earlier . . . .”

She added, almost mumbling to herself, “I will need a little time to get things ready, though.”

“Why don’t you just text me when it’s a good time to come?” I suggested. “It’ll only take me five minutes to walk over.”

Erin seemed happy with that idea – see, some of my ideas are good ones. 

After we got Saturday all sorted out, we just chatted about a variety of topics. I think for the two of us, the subject really didn’t matter all that much . . . or at least not near as much as us just having a chance to talk. So we talked . . . and laughed . . . and both of us forgot about all the stress and worries that filled our lives. We just lost ourselves in our conversation . . . and in each other, I guess.

I actually did get up early – I even saw my parents off to work – and then finished up my presentation and fleshed out my separate presenter’s notes. It had come together quite nicely, I thought. Of course it was all material I was intimately familiar with.

Then I turned my attention back to the job hunt – something I’d ignored a bit over the last few days. I made a few calls, and did a bit more thinking about companies to target, but I found myself feeling distracted. 

I tried doing some cleaning around the house – never one of my favorite tasks, but I figured that since I was there and doing very little, it was the least I could do. That only ‘entertained’ me for a short while before I started feeling restless. 

I considered texting Erin, but I knew she’d be busy with classes and I didn’t want to be a distraction (see, not totally selfish). Finally I gave Aimee a call to see what she was up to.

It seemed she wasn’t too busy, so I told her maybe I’d stop by and we could go out and grab some lunch . . . which she seemed to be very into.

I bundled up and walked over to the salon – the weather was actually not too bad. It was only eleven thirty, but Aimee was just finishing up with a customer and then didn’t have anything scheduled until two, so we took off to a little diner she suggested that was just down the street.

We grabbed a booth and started to chat while I checked out the menu. Apparently Aimee already knew what she wanted.

She was talking about her kids, and how Tyler was helping to coach hockey now and how Ethan loved having his dad there, even if he wasn’t maybe the most knowledgeable about the sport.

“And Becca’s been talking about maybe doing figure skating,” she added proudly.

I had to grin. “So I guess you’ll have to step up and help coach her with that, right? I mean, it’s only fair.”

Aimee gave me a look like I was insane, and I just laughed. I’d seen her skate, and it wasn’t pretty.

She didn’t bother dignifying my comment with an answer. Instead, she changed the topic.

“Anyway, what have you been up to? Still working on the job hunting?” Her tone made it sound like ‘working on job hunting’ might have ranked right up there with doing heroine or scamming little old ladies out of their life’s savings. 

I guess from her perspective, the amount of effort I was putting into finding a job was a measure of how badly I wanted to get out of this town and away from my best friend – rather than just me trying to get on with my life.

“I’ve been doing a bit of job hunting,” I told her, “but lately I think I’ve been spending most of my time working on this presentation for Erin’s class.”

I starting going into details about what I had put together and what I was planning to talk about. Maybe I was a little over-enthusiastic in my sharing. It probably took me five minutes before I noticed Aimee’s eyes had completely glazed over.

I stopped talking and I’m sure I looked a little sheepish. “Anyway,” I said, “I’m really looking forward to giving my presentation.” Hopefully all the students wouldn’t go into a coma like my lunch companion.

Luckily, Aimee managed to revive herself. She gave me a careful little look, and then said, “You sound like you’re really into it . . . this whole class presentation thing.”

She got a little grin. “You know, you don’t get a mark for this, right?” 

I was well known for my presentations back in high school days . . . and I always got top marks.

I found myself grinning back at Aimee . . . in spite of her poor attempt at humor. “It’s just nice to have something to focus on . . . something to do . . . that doesn’t involve me worrying about getting a job . . . or putting that asshole behind me.”

I paused before adding, “I’m really enjoying this. I’m glad I can help Erin out. And I’m happy to share what I know with the kids . . . even if half of them go brain dead on me, like you did.”

Aimee was staring at me, measuring my words maybe. She didn’t speak for a few seconds . . . but then gave me a big smile, put her hand on mine and gave it a big squeeze. “I think this is the happiest I’ve seen you since you’ve been back,” she said. For a change, there was no accusation in her voice . . . she just seemed happy for me.

The little grin came back. “Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe you were meant to teach high school. Maybe you and Erin can take on the kids of Bradford High together and actually make them want to learn.”

I got this sudden image of Erin and I working together, spending our days together, sharing the same issues and challenges the way colleagues (or more than colleagues?) did. A huge smile spread across my face. It took me a fraction of a second to realize it . . . and then I quickly lowered my face and forced the smile away. It was replaced with flushed cheeks. I immediately wondered what Aimee would make of it . . . and feared that she’d see through me. She did know me very well.

All this flashed through my mind in a second, from joy and elation to sudden fear. I was so relieved when I heard Aimee start to laugh. “So, do you have some secret desire to be a teacher,” she teased. Apparently that was her take on my bizarre reaction.

I didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter, because Aimee was already moving on.

“Whatever it is, I’m glad . . . because it’s making you happy. It’s good to see you smile like that. I can’t remember the last time I saw it . . . I just know it’s been a long time.”

I gave her a bashful little look. I wondered . . . if she knew the real reason for my reaction . . . what would she say?


	12. Chapter 12

Saturday morning I worked on polishing up my presentation – again. And I found myself distracted . . . and restless . . . and happy . . . again. 

After Aimee and I had finished up with lunch the previous day, I’d let her talk me into going over to her place for supper that evening. It had been fun. Tyler had headed off for a rare night out with the boys – he was maybe a touch less happy knowing I was there to ‘lead Aimee astray’. As if she needed my help with that.

The two of us just hung out with the kids, playing games mostly, until Aimee put them to bed. After that we sipped our wine and chatted. Aimee had even more gossip from her work – although I was relieved to find there was nothing about either me or Erin.

And we only finished off one bottle of wine between us. Surprisingly, we found we could have fun without drinking to excess.

Although I enjoyed myself, I still found my mind wandered more than once during the evening. Even little Becca had chided me, saying (in a very serious tone), “Auntie Jess, you’ve got to pay attention if you want to win.” Yes, every game we played, the kids kicked my butt. It was really quite sad.

I’m not sure if Aimee spent any time wondering what was distracting me so much, but she didn’t ask any questions. Maybe she was just relieved to see me in a good mood and didn’t want to jinx it.

When Tyler got home about eleven – still in pretty good shape (he’d really changed from when I knew him years ago) – I took that as my cue and I left. No one was really in any kind of shape to drive me home, which was fine, because it wasn’t too bad out and I really enjoyed the walk. 

I’d actually been thrilled when I got home to find I had a text from Erin. Right around nine thirty she'd sent one saying, “They’re finally gone and I’m exhausted. Tense, but not a total disaster. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow if you want. Must sleep now. Night.”

I had my phone in my purse at Aimee’s, so I guess I didn’t hear the text come in. I wondered if she was disappointed that I hadn't responded. I decided it was too late to expect anything – especially if her evening had been that draining – but I still sent a reply, saying, “Sorry, I was at Aimee’s. Looking forward to tomorrow. You can tell me all about your evening then. Night.”

I waited a bit, but I got no response. I hadn’t really expected one . . . but I still felt somewhat disappointed.

In spite of that, I had a great sleep . . . and though I didn’t remember much of my dreams, I did remember Erin making a guest appearance in at least one of them. Maybe that’s why I was feeling so cheery when I woke up.

Erin and I had shared a few texts first thing in the morning – I suppose that contributed to my sunny disposition. Once her grandmother woke up I knew she was going to be busy, so I told her I’d see her later and we could talk then. I didn’t want to take away from the time she had with grandmother – I understood that time was so much more important than our goofy texts.

Both of my parents had commented again that morning on my good mood. “Last night out with Aimee, now tonight with this other friend . . . Erin. You’re just settling right back into life here, aren’t you?” my mom commented. She seemed quite pleased.

“Now all you need . . . ,” she started, but paused and didn’t finish it. Instead she just gave me a big grin.

I knew my mother well enough to know exactly where she was going with that. ‘All you need is the right guy to complete your life.’ Some guy other than Troy, obviously.

I guess maybe she didn’t recall that I’d only been separated for six months . . . and that the divorce wasn’t even finalized yet. I’m sure she just hoped I’d put it all behind me quickly and get on with things (and what were the chances that ‘things’ included, at least in her mind, making little grand babies?) 

I found myself wondering how mom would feel if she knew the slight turn my personal life was taking right now. I knew she’d be happy for me – eventually. I just wasn’t all that sure how long it might take her to get there.

It was almost eleven when it suddenly occurred to me that I’d agreed to make the dressing for the Caesar salad.

I scrambled around the kitchen, trying to find the recipe I always used – it had been a while – and then searching for all the ingredients. 

I guess I made enough noise and did enough swearing to rouse my mother’s curiosity, because she came out to the kitchen to see what was going on. After I told her what I was doing, she helped me find everything I needed. She even washed out an old mayonnaise jar from the recycling so I had something to put it in to take it over to Erin’s.

“I don’t really remember this Erin,” mom said as she bustled around the kitchen. “You said you went to school together. Did I ever meet her?”

In the short time Erin and I hung out together, we spent most of our time either at her Grandmother’s place or off driving around or hiking in the nearby parks. I told mom she probably met her once of twice my senior year, but apparently it didn’t stand out for her. 

“I sort of know who she is . . . well, not to see her, but she’s the one staying over at Emily Barnes’ place, right? She’s Emily’s granddaughter. I’d heard one of her grandkids had moved back to help take care of her after the fall . . . and then when . . . .” She sort of trailed off and just gave me a sad look.

“That whole thing, it’s so tragic,” she continued. “Emily was . . . I mean, is such a wonderful woman.” Mom gave her head a shake and let out a little laugh. “God, she could be so demanding, and she wouldn’t back down to anyone.”

I was more than a little surprised.

“So you know her . . . Erin’s grandmother?” I asked. I was curious.

Mom let out a little laugh again. “Oh, yes. Emily was a trustee on the school board for . . . well, years. I had to deal with her a few times. Let me tell you, if she was on your side, things were great. But if you were going up against her on anything, well, you had to have your ducks in a row. Emily was tough, and you certainly couldn’t bullshit her . . . .”

I found myself staring at my mother. I could probably count the number of times I’d ever heard her swear on one hand. She saw my look, but just grinned at me and continued on.

“. . . and she had no problem telling people exactly what she thought. She didn’t have any time for snowflakes – I guess that’s what you’d call them now – she’d say exactly what was on her mind and didn’t really care if you didn’t like it.”

Mom smiled and gave her head another little shake. “She was always good to work with, because you always knew exactly where you stood. And she took her job very seriously . . . she wasn’t concerned about appearances or politics. . . which was always nice.”

I was still a little shocked by this whole discussion – I guess things were like that in a small town. I was just amazed I never knew this before . . . although I guess there was no real reason I should.

“So what’s your friend, Erin, like? Is she like her grandmother . . . totally determined when she wants something?”

My initial thought was to say Erin was pretty easy-going . . . but then I remembered how we’d battled with each other back on the yearbook committee. Maybe she wasn’t quite so easy-going when she thought she was right . . . and that someone else was being bossy and dismissive of her ideas.

I found myself smiling, thinking about our time on that committee. Let’s face it, that’s where we really got to know each other . . . and where everything else started. 

I was lost in those happy thoughts for a few seconds, until I heard mom clear he throat and say, “Jessica?”

I was jolted back to the present and I glanced around, I’m sure looking more than a little guilty. I was a bit frightened my mother had been watching me and had seen that nostalgic look on my face, but then I realized she had her face buried in the fridge, trying to find some ingredient for me.

I almost breathed a sigh of relief – and wondered why that was – before I finally responded. “Uh, yeah,” I said rather weakly, “Yeah, Erin can be like that sometimes I guess . . . .”

Mom finally straightened up and smiled at me. “I’d like to meet your friend some day. I always really liked . . . really respected Emily. And your friend is doing so much to help her grandmother. She must really be pretty wonderful.”

My smile was back, although this time it was a little more guarded. I couldn’t help replying, though, “Yeah, she really is.”


End file.
